


Holiday Lights

by SippingPlotting



Series: Sequels [4]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-11 05:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 35,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12928947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SippingPlotting/pseuds/SippingPlotting
Summary: Hopefully a daily dose of light and fluffy for the holidays





	1. Chapter 1

-  
-  
-

"It's just odd, i'nt it, those weird noises and lights out north to the Farabee Farm."  
Daisy Parker bustled around the kitchen at Yew Tree, returning the last of the breakfast pans neatly on the rack.  
It was warm in the old house, comfortable and attractive. The shining copper kettle reflected back the reds and blues of the curtains she'd added.  
The wooden block of the table was rubbed so smooth it almost had a polish to it.  
Home....but not homely, Yew Tree was--a credit to them all.

"I could see the flickering out the upper window even more," her daughter Dorothea--usually known by her childhood nickname, Dolly--added her agreement as she put the last bits into the Fridgidare. "Do y' think they're trying to keep people Off?"  
Daisy paused, humming slightly, considering, which Dolly took as agreement.

The girl couldn't wait for any further pleasant speculation, though, since they all were in a rush to get on about their day.  
Satisfied everything was tidy enough, Dolly untied her apron and smoothed her hair.  
"Morning, da," she said, kissing him as she went by to get her things for work.

 

Andy Parker had come in from a check on the barn where Dolly's twin brother was feeding the animals.  
"Don't be on about it with Thomas." The tall man gave a teasing sort of smile, having caught the end of the topic. "He's got enough to worry about this week without thinking his cook's gone round the bend."  
"Phht," Daisy replied to her husband, making a last sweep of the room before the two of them would be off.

These days Andy only went up to the Abbey for very special events, this time preparing for a holiday house party--a tradition that had finally been resurrected after the war.  
"You didn't see it, though, all ghostly. I'm sure whatever they're doing just ISN'T right."  
And Daisy put her hands on her hips, seeing his skepticism.  
"I'm not saying to bring out the Ouija board, you know. I'm just saying they're doing something odd over there."

 

Andy chuckled and brought over her coat, holding it as she turned to wiggle into it, wrapping her in his arms as she finished buttoning up. Managing just one extra squeeze of Daisy's waist.  
"Well, week after next we'll drive over with the excuse of welcoming the new tenants and look the place over, but we can't do anything the next few days, what with all the fuss of the holidays going on."  
And kissing the top of his tiny wife's head, he asked, "ready?"  
To which she picked up her bag from the counter and said " of course" before taking his hand to set off, lacing her fingers with his and holding tight. 

 

It had been like that since the second war, the two of them touchy-touchy when they could be.  
Even though they were counting the time in years now.  
Even though Andy's nightmares had somewhat quieted and his fear of sudden noises lessened to almost none.  
Yet they couldn't quite get over the gladness of simply being within the other's reach.

"It'll be like I'm Lady Mary with a chauffeur, you driving this morning," she teased, kissing his knuckles.  
Opening the door and giving a slight footman's nod, Andy made his tone formal, "Lady Daisy, Countess of Yew Tree."  
(As she nodded, playing her role by tilting her chin up and narrowing her eyes.)  
"Thank you, Andrew. Let's drive on."  
(Ruining it with a hitch of a giggle at the end, and an even more inappropriate kiss on his jaw as he slid in beside.)

\---

Meanwhile,  
already downstairs at the Abbey,  
Barrow and Phyllis were in the thick of it though morning hadn't even broken.  
As housekeeper, Mrs. Moseley had to maintain the inventories and supervise the maids when they had house parties.  
Yet with parties not being as frequent as they had been in decades past (and maids not living in), it caused quite a disturbance to their routine when one came up.

"I had the best of Joseph's older girls cleaning yesterday, and it's still not quite up to the mark," the housekeeper admitted.  
"I can't borrow any of the village girls. Most of them just want clerking jobs these days, or even factory work, them being used to it now. Even Mrs. Patmore's Philpott relations are all busy, covering both her B&B and sometimes helping at the Carsons', too."  
Mr. Carson had died years before, and Mrs. Hughes was frail enough to give them pause...but it was still the 'Carson Cottage' to them all.

 

"I wish Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore, even, could come," Barrow said, smirking slightly as he made the admission. "We could fix them up in comfortable chairs where they could sit and simply supervise."  
He sighed. "Just having two more clear heads would surely help given how little time there is left.  
"I'd even call on Jimmy Kent to tote a tray if he weren't away in Monaco."

"These children," he grumbled. "They lack any sort of training."  
"Mmm," she nodded, then the corners of her mouth quirked up as she added, "Though perhaps Mrs. Hughes once said such about you."

Down the hall they could hear as Daisy clattered into the big house kitchen, flipping lights with an abandon that belied her earlier fears of electricity, back when such things had been 'new.'  
"Parkers are here," Thomas nodded. "Now we'll get things sorted."  
And rising, he and Phyllis went out to get the day in hand.

\---

"Mum saw it too. It's been off and on for a week now, with the old lady gone and the new tenants moved in."  
Dolly prattled on as she drove her roadster through the narrow lanes toward the village.  
"Such foolishness," Beryl Patmore said, squelching the topic. "You've too much imagination by half." The old woman fidgeted slightly in the seat beside her.

"Did you remember the jars of preserve?"  
"Yes, granny," the girl said, knowing the list by rote.  
"And the basket of fruit Mr. Barrow sent down for her?"  
"Yes, granny."  
"She'll not be wanting to, but if you get the chance to talk her into closing up for Christmas to New Year's...."  
"I'll tell her we want her to come," Dolly sighed slightly.  
"Yes, granny, I know."

Mrs. Hughes was her Granny Beryl's closest friend, but at 86 the older woman was slowing down.  
It worried Beryl, it did.  
Yet she couldn't give in to fussing or fluttering about, lest Elsie Hughes throw her out on her ear--politely of course, ever so politely.

 

Neither woman would admit they needed help. The difference was that Beryl, with her adopted family each night and her extended relations during the day, had quite a few silent helpers each doing a small bit, allowing her dignity.  
Elsie Hughes, on the other hand, lived mainly alone and noticed every gesture anyone made to help. She'd accept some as simple kindnesses, but there was a definite line Not to be crossed. 

"I'll see to everything best that I can," Dolly assured her.  
Dolly Parker worked for Mrs. Hughes in the cottage, running the tiny front room tea shop, seeing to the bookings for the guest rooms, and--her latest innovation--offering books to sell. 

Beryl huffed slightly beside her, but after a momentary eye roll the older lady admitted,  
"You always do, love. You always do.  
"Just remember I'll be over at the B&B until luncheon and then I'll 'drop by' with you."  
And with just the slightest hint of a chuckle,  
the girl answered one Last, "Yes, granny,"  
as they drove into the town.


	2. Chapter 2

-  
-  
-  
Business had been brisk all day at the tea room--so many people in and out of Downton, one would think it a metropolis the likes of York. (Or so they joked.)  
Dolly'd finished the cleaning and baking, and had managed serving luncheon to her Gran and Mrs. Hughes in a manner pleasing enough to have them wreathed in smiles.  
A long stretch of customers and transactions,  
And now the girl was sitting in the front window, reading a book for her few minutes of well-earned rest. 

It was a very dry sort of book, and laughter on the sidewalk outside distracted her. A group of young people walked by, and looking up it appeared to Dolly they were almost gilded by the lowering sun:  
The Talbots and one of the Bates boys, she noted, recognizing them by sight.  
It was Clarey Bates laughing, of course, though Edward Talbot was grinning up at the taller lad, seeming to be quietly enjoying the joke. Violet Talbot, on the other hand, followed primly and seriously behind.

Unaware of doing so, Dolly Parker sighed.

 

Neither of the Parker twins was what one might term 'close' with the big house young people; Dolly & Davey, after all, had been raised at Yew Tree and attended the village school. (No nursery room and tutors, them.)

Yet, the girl had a nodding acquaintance with everyone, and so when  
Clarey Bates looked over to where she sat and gave a cheeky sort of salute, she smiled and nodded back.  
Dolly was older than either boy by a year or so and also used to being around rambunctious lads-- having not only a brother but also farm hands (even evacuees during the war.)  
A bit of cheek didn't bother her, though she rolled her eyes and returned to her book, seeing Master Edward give Clarey a poke in the midsection for his action.

Talbot needn't worry--Clarey Bates didn't fancy the likes of Her, she knew. 

 

Besides, if she'd had her pick of boys, like choosing from a store rack, she'd ruther Edward's dark hair & sharp green eyes than Clarey's blonde & sunny blue.  
Dolly shook her head and snorted slightly, trying to focus in on the book--neither boy would be for her, and she was a daft idjit for letting her mind wander.  
Like his brother, with a university degree Clarey Bates would be off to do grand things.

 

Another hint of a sigh escaped, admitting her true desire.  
Dolly wished it could be so for herself, this traveling to university.  
She was the age to go but couldn't, of course.  
Yet taking a page out of her mother's book, knowing education was essentially 'free,' Dolly sat in the cottage window, minding her shop and reading from the heavy text she'd borrowed.  
She might not get the degree, but she'd be the match of any of them in brains,  
Dorothea Parker would.

\---

"I've put the kettle on," a gentle voice came behind her and Dolly jumped, startled.  
"Good heavens, you shouldn't have done," she started in the mildly scolding tone she so often heard from gran. Then swallowing hastily,  
"I just mean...I'm sorry."

Mrs. Hughes stood in front of her, chuckling softly. "Heavens, girl, you do enough for three.  
"Besides, it was just to start, really. You don't mean to push me out of my own kitchen Entirely, now do you?" She patted her hand and turned to walk slowly back.  
The young woman reminded Elsie a bit of Daisy about the mouth,  
and Daisy'd always been a game one to Try.

 

"What with you keeping everything so tidy, I just wanted to give something in to the work."  
The old woman winced slightly and sat down, letting Dolly bustle about and finish the tray.  
They had several guests upstairs who'd be down at half past, but for now it was just they two.  
"Your granny's preserves will be a hit with everyone," Mrs. Hughes commented, knowing Beryl had always been the best cook of all of them, even Alfred who'd so long ago gone off to be a professional chef.

"She does have a way of adding some little extra flavor to things that makes the whole dish come out better, doesn't she?" Dolly nodded as she bustled along. The girl herself could replicate the jams and jellies and such, but she couldn't 'originate' them. That was where her gifts in the kitchen failed.  
Perhaps she could market the recipes? Make the little tea room a restaurant eventually?

 

Dolly wasn't sure exactly what her future would hold, but it had to be something a bit 'More Than' her granny or mother.  
Daisy and Andy'd raised their children on the dream that each generation should pull the Parkers forward a little More. Now it would be Dolly's turn to make good.  
"You'll like my scones well enough, though, even if I made them not grans."  
Dolly's dimples came out, knowing That at least to be true. "Davey'd have had the entire baking polished off if we made them at Yew Tree. This way I can take a dozen or so home whilst someone else still gets a taste."

\---  
Outside on the road into the village, traffic was going by at a respectable clip--respectable for Downton, at any rate.

Coming into town, two bundles on the seat beside her, Sybil Barrow was humming a tune.  
MaryMargaret, her oldest, was five--a deceptively cherubic looking little girl with blue grey eyes and pink cheeks. And the confidence of a twenty year old.  
Thank heavens her little' un kept the girl entertained, Sybbie thought.  
Called "Whoops" by his father Daniel, the one year old was living....down....to his name.

"Be careful of Patrick, now, when we get to the tea room," Sybil said, reaching over to right her son from rolling off into the floor.  
"I will, mumma," Mary said, taking hold of the boy momentarily before looking out over the passing scenery with keen eyes. 

 

"And only one biscuit this time," Sybil suggested, though when she looked over and saw the little girl smirking at her, she had to laugh. "Well, if they offer you seconds, you may have a second, but only not to be rude."  
That had been the perfectly plausible, logical (long) explanation MaryMargaret had given her last time for why she couldn't only have one....it would offend both Dolly and by relation Mrs. Patmore. (And it would have done, Sybbie'd been forced to admit.)  
Nodding agreeably, Mary reached over and took the housekey away from Patrick, who was trying to fit it up his nose. ("No, now, Patty, none of that.") And pocketing the item so that it wouldn't be lost from them, the five year old went back to observations of her own.

 

Her mother, meanwhile, thought through their itinerary.  
They'd swing by for a treat, then go by Bakewell's to get the provisions she needed. Maybe they'd even manage to go by the shop that sold the carvings? Sybbie'd heard they had a display in the window with wind up mechanicals which would have the children enthralled.  
The young mother hummed a few more bars of a Christmas carol, trying to put some 'holiday joy' back into her 'holiday chores.'  
While the lot of them would go up to the big house for a family party, a section of the family was coming to Longfield for dinner, too. 

A section of both families, rather--Daniel's and hers--which might prove rather....tricky.  
Sybil sighed and frowned--unusual for her eternally cheerful self.  
Looking over at MaryMargaret's startled expression, the young mother realized her worries were showing, and forced a smile on her face as she began to sing along with the carols again.

 

It wasn't that Daniel Barrow couldn't hold his own with her family. Her husband had done so, even becoming somewhat friendly with Sybbie's father, and he'd would do so again when they went up to the gathering there.  
That wasn't Much of a concern.

What had the smudges starting under Sybil Barrow's eyes was that for the first time, she was hosting a luncheon at which Danny's mother and grandmother would be guests,  
required to mix in close quarters with the Crawleys.  
In addition, it was the first time Sybil was hosting a Holiday Luncheon, at all, which apparently was a much bigger task than hosting a regular luncheon,  
or so she had been appalled to be told by Mrs. Bakewell at the store.  
Two families and a goose.  
A lot could go wrong.

 

The absolute optimist that was Sybil Branson Barrow hadn't even considered this.  
She shook her head and huffed at her foolishness.  
At least for once Danny's uncle, Thomas, wouldn't have to serve.  
Her Barrow could sit across from Sybbie and let his laughing eyes and politely blank butler's expression comment on the situation. Now that the families were (in theory, not practice) One.

Sybil kept singing along gamely, leaning over only to keep Patrick from careening off the seat once more, this time chasing the shoe he'd taken off and tossed.  
Arms and legs moving, his clothes were ALL almost half off.  
Sybbie gave a sound between a laugh and a sigh.  
And she comforted herself that  
at least hers wasn't as big of a party as the butler himself was in the midst of planning now.

\---

"I think every aristocratic connection that could be invited has been," Barrow said with a slightly peevish tone.  
"Some of these names haven't been here since before the Crash."

Thomas and Phyllis were going over lists yet again, making some modifications as a few last minute stragglers were added.  
"How rude that anyone would push in now," she commented, shaking her head.  
"Lady Grantham must've really wanted Lord Haverby to let him bring a clutch of guests along himself."  
Barrow rolled his eyes. It was the way the game was played.

 

"We'll just have to manage. Lord Grantham is trying very hard to make sure that Master George is fully accepted in the county, what with so much falling away from the Standard since the wars."  
Neither of them spoke about the fact that Barrow's nephew marrying Miss Sybbie was a major point in the 'falling away.'  
After all, there was also blame on Lady Mary for insisting on acting as agent to the estate....and later divorcing her husband Henry, on quite solid grounds, but still divorce. (And even before that the "chauffeur" incident, which started them on the decline.)

 

Then there were the other grandchildren. The Crawleys had never much conformed to acceptable norms.  
Barrow sighed. It would take more than a fine house party to burnish up the family these days, but for Master George, he would try.

A scurry in the hall alerted them.  
"Children are here," Mrs. Moseley smiled.  
"Sounds like," Thomas agreed. "You can always hear Anna's boy Clarey piping above the crowd."  
Barrow smiled back, however, quite widely in fact.  
"It'll be good to have them near again."


	3. Chapter 3

-  
-  
-

Edward Talbot pulled the pillow more completely over his eyes to block the light.  
They'd arrived at a decent hour the day before, but Edward was no longer used to dining at the usual Downton time. Further, he and Clarey sat up for several hours into the night comparing notes on the status and condition of each one's families.  
Long hours, talking. (Though with few results.)

Now,  
Lady Mary's younger son enjoyed being housed with Clarey Bates at university. They'd grown up together in the Downton nursery, after all. And after years of being side-by-side, the two were inseparably Best Mates.  
Still, having lights on in the wee smalls was annoying, friend or no.  
And they weren't at university this week, anyway. They were at home, where only the scullery maids woke before dawn.

 

"Clarey, for God's sake go back to bed," Edward grumbled.  
Clarey's parents, John & Anna Bates, were staying at the big house for the entire time of the holidays, making the young man also welcome to 'sleep in.' And though he'd been given his own room near his parents, he'd ended up--inevitably--here.  
And it was a good thing, since both boys had some things to do over holiday Together, and it was far easier to start in one place.  
Still.  
"Clarey!" Edward punctuated his irritation with a pillow lofted at the offender with surprising accuracy.

 

To which Young Bates, predictably, laughed.  
"I've just this last bit left to write out," he mumbled, his blond hair a halo around him in the gleam of the desk lamp.  
"M'pen's gone blotchy again and you know how the old man gets."  
They were reading philosophy together, their second year thanks to early admissions, though most of their time was spent with a professor of ancient languages. A weathered old man who had nothing to do with their degree and yet seemed intent on giving them extra readings and assignments.  
Clarey, never one to back away from a challenge, always took the bait. 

"He wanted a copy of that tomb engraving in that expedition diary of your great grandfather's, and I'm trying the best I can."  
Clarence scratched his nose, transferring a large blot to that handsome protuberance.  
"If I can just work around this wretched pen."  
Sighing, Edward pulled the second pillow back over his eyes and groaned.  
No rest for the wicked, so they say.

\---

"Tell me how to fix the goose again?" Sybbie asked, standing in the busy Abbey kitchen, chewing her bottom lip.  
She'd driven up especially early this morning, not only to greet her returning brother and cousins, but also to seek out the cook's help.

Daisy'd TOLD her already, of course. Sybil'd even written it down. But somehow the listening and writing were quite a different sort of thing from the actual doing.  
"D'you want me to cook it for you here, just to warm up?" the older woman offered, grinning somewhat, though she tried to hide her amusement. (The two were quite close, after all, thanks to both having had husbands in the second war, as well as living on adjoining farms now.)

 

"No, pride won't let me.  
"But I wouldn't mind if you cooked one with me here later, just so I know I've done it once under supervision."  
Sybil sighed, turning wide blue eyes Daisy's way.  
"I feel like I'm going to Poison the lot of them. YOU wouldn't understand."  
To which she was surprised when Parker started laughing as a long buried memory came to mind.  
"Haven't time to tell you the story now, but trust me I know better than y'might think. Now go upstairs and talk to your grandparents before they send down a search party and interrupt my work."

A quick hug, and the two parted, each to their separate realm.

\---

The first person Sybil saw when she crept to the 'proper' side of the baize door was her grandfather, coming slowly and serenely down the main staircase...as he probably had at this exact time, this exact way for most of his life.

"My darling girl," Donk exclaimed, moving to give Sybbie a kiss and MaryMargaret a pat on the head. "We were just about to settle in for breakfast, if you'd like to come."  
There came a slightly perplexed and awkward pause as Robert considered how to proceed.  
While he wasn't exactly sure about the procedure for eating with children, Lord Grantham knew that at Longfield the young ones ate en famille.  
(Such a thought made him nervous even though he loved them, but if Needs Must, it would suffice.)

"There's some lovely jammy things, I'm told," Robert gallantly said, bending closer to his great granddaughter and smiling as she reached up and took his hand.

 

"And am I allowed lovely jammy things, too?" Edward Talbot said quietly, eyes smiling as he came down to join the group.  
The young man gave his cousin Sybil a peck on the cheek and gave a serious sort of bow to young Mary.  
"Better yet, am I allowed to hold onto the Squirmer at bit, if I don't make him howl?"  
The gentlest of souls, Edward had a special gift and a fondness for children (who seemed to respond in kind.)

Gratefully, Sybil handed over the baby (a remarkably friendly tike, just also remarkably prone to dumping things over whilst on one's lap.)  
"Better you than me, cuz," she joked, but she patted her little boy and smiled at him with a mother's love.  
(The baby gave a gummy smile back and then, finding himself agreeably transferred, tried to share his dummy by pointing it at Edward's mouth.)

 

"My lord," Barrow said, quietly, coming from behind and trying to keep his expression bland.  
"The maid, Ann, has set up the children's meal upstairs, if you'd allow?"  
Looking down and catching young MaryMargaret's scowl, he hastened to add, "Mrs. Parker's best things, and they'll get to visit with Ann's son, too. Mary should enjoy that, correct?"  
The youngster's countenance lightened, as Barrow knew it must.  
Reflexively, Thomas returned her smile.

 

Meanwhile, beside the butler Lord Grantham sighed in relief. All was again right with the world.  
Thank heavens Barrow knew what should be done to make Sense.

"Breakfast then?" Robert Crawley asked tentatively, joining his grandchildren in going to the dining room as his butler led away his great grandchildren--deftly having taken the baby from Edward and claimed Mary with his ungloved hand.  
Something about the trio (butler so tall, children tiny & trusting) made Robert want to laugh, though of course he didn't.  
It was certainly a different sort of world than the one into which Lord Grantham had been brought. 

Then again, he had grown used to many of the changes, having no choice in the matter most times.  
Sighing slightly, but still smiling, Robert was looking forward to a pleasant day.

\---

Breakfast, however, was not without some small controversies.  
"Tim Grey?" Lady Mary Crawley sniffed, as she sat down with the rest.  
"Mama, surely you jest." Her irritated tones were like a knife.

"Now Mary," Cora said as patiently as she could, still at this advanced age trying to keep peace.  
"Your father wanted the Haverbys and the Driscolls added. Lord Haverby had Tim Grey as his guest already, so if he's to come, Tim will too.  
And the Driscolls are friends of theirs, so they really move as a complete set."

"And we must have a complete set," George Crawley remarked, in an gently jibing voice which sounded so much like his father Matthew that Mary turned, startled for an instant and fell silent. (Her mouth making a silent, oh.)

 

"We're doing our best to see that the county takes you into its embrace. The war disrupted things, of course, but there are still enough of the older people around to steer us a clear path back."  
This bit came from Robert, of course.  
As his heir, George could receive Robert's second highest title as an honor, and the old man intended to do just that this holiday.  
Young Crawley had read medicine and served as a doctor during the second war, which was noble-minded enough, but he the fact that he was continuing on with it was rather odd to some of the older folks, not used to the modern ways. 

"Liz is coming, isn't she, dear?" Cora asked, trying to be casual.  
"She is," George replied evenly, to which his brother and cousin gave a quiet 'hurrah' from down table.  
"I do like Liz," Violet added, her only attempt at conversation so far. "It will be good to see her again, and I think everyone will approve."  
"Of course they will," added Edward.  
"And of course, if they don't, then they're no friend of ours," Sybil declared, joining forces with them all as family ought.

 

"When does the invasion start?" she asked next. Sybil and Daniel were only coming up for the dinner, not staying for the entire party.  
And the family were visiting her in a similar way.  
"Five days, heaven help us," her Aunt Mary said to the young woman.  
To which her father, Tom Branson, muttered "Amen."

 

"And yours?" Tom asked his daughter, grinning. 

"Tomorrow, late. Christmas Eve. And of course I'll expect you all for luncheon Boxing Day." 

"You know you're all welcome here the whole week," Tom said, knowing her answer yet feeling the need to underscore the matter again.  
"I know, daddy, and I believe you." Sybil smiled at her Aunt Mary and grandparents, too, before looking back at Tom.  
"But I want you all to be welcome There, in my house, too. That's where I went everyone to feel they truly belong."

\---  
Meanwhile, in a smaller sort of room in the village the day was starting in a quieter fashion.

"New morning. New start. Anything more on your mysterious lights?"  
Elsie Hughes settled in as Dolly poured the morning cuppa.  
The girl had explained the situation at Longfield, the mysterious look of it all, and while the old woman didn't think it much of a mystery, per se, she still found it disquieting.

Elsie'd known Siobhan Farrabee, had known her back in the early days before she'd gone and got herself married and become a farmer's wife.  
Now, the poor thing had to give up her home and hearth due to age and recent infirmities, which was a sore point of worry for Hughes herself.  
So she certainly didn't intend to stand by while someone did something nefarious out at the old farm. Not on her life.

 

"Were they all of one color or all sorts?" Elsie asked, wondering if it was simply folks with torches in the mist. Sometimes the spookiest looking things were merely tricks of one's imagination.  
Nodding and smiling, inserting a question here and there,  
Mrs. Hughes let Dolly Parker prattle on.

Perhaps, what with Christmas almost on them, they should go visit the other old woman with a plate of sweets. Cheer her up, and see what they could learn.  
It wouldn't hurt to try, and Dolly'd profit from a good distraction, too, poor thing.  
Elsie remembered well how difficult it was to move from being a young & carefree to a woman carrying the weight of the world.


	4. Chapter 4

-  
-  
-  
Having deposited the children with Ann, having stoked herself with plenty of food and coffee, and now having tied on the largest apron Daisy Parker could find,  
Sybil Barrow prepared to rise to the Challenge. (Or at least practice doing so.)

Around her a few kitchen maids had the poor sense to laugh, and Daisy flew at them, scattering the lot.  
Sybbie'd been up and down out of the kitchen for years now, ever since she'd grown fond of Daniel and both he & Andy'd gone off to war. (Even before that, as a child, a different Barrow periodically in tow.)  
She and Daisy, in spite of their vast differences, had found a wide swath of common ground.  
And Daisy wasn't about to let some foolish chits of maids undermine the young woman's confidence now. 

 

"Now you've cooked," she started, sensibly. "It's not like you're starting from scratch by a long sight."  
And suddenly, without warning, an image appeared, making Daisy clamp fingertips over her mouth.  
"What?" Sybbie said. "Do we not have everything? I can't have fouled it up too badly, since we haven't made much of a start."

 

"Your mother," Daisy said, with teary eyes and a rather watery giggle.  
"When I was a girl, your mother came in to learn to make tea and bake a cake from Mrs. Patmore."

Sybbie scoffed. "Everyone can make tea. The cake I could perhaps see, though. What sort was it?"  
Palms to eyes to clear them, shaking off her momentary lapse, Daisy began to move about, gathering pans.  
"NOT everyone can make tea, let me tell you. Your mother wasn't raised like you, probably your father's influence there." Daisy's laugh half cracked, but it still held a bit of true humor. 

"LADY Sybil couldn't even fill the kettle. And we had to chuck out the entire makings for a mousse...when anyone with limbs can make a mousse."  
Sybbie began to chop onions, figuring to use that reasonable activity to cover the beginnings of her own sniffles.  
"And she learned?"

 

"Why I'm ever so good a teacher, don't ya know," Daisy said back, pretending to be smug.  
"We had a cake for your granny." (She swallowed.) "Lady Grantham, that is.... Chocolate, I think.  
"Alls I remember is that it had frosting so thick it was almost more frosting than cake."  
She huffed. "Helped to hide the fact the top was at a bit of a slant."

The cook put her hands on her hips, looked at the young woman, and smiled.  
"So you're truly so very Far beyond that, having been the whole year on your own. Just remember this is like a chicken, only bigger and you'll be fine."

\---

"Are we not to use these pheasants tonight, then?"  
At half past, the keeper, Joe Miller came into the fragrant kitchen with a basket of game in his arms. Daisy immediately circled by to check things out and put things right.  
"We've Those for the family tonight, but This is practice for Sybbie's big day. Course, we'll not waste it ourselves, mix it in with other dishes after."  
The tall man smiled at Daisy and then at the girl, seeing the determined tilt of her chin and recognizing he'd walked into the culinary version of a war.  
Time to lighten things, he thought.

 

Walking over next to Sybbie,  
Miller cadged a bit of what looked like a very tasty fruit mix and tried to look sage.  
"Did I ever tell you my father's story about my mother's first goose? He and my mother got in quite a row, apparently, and he'd always tell the story each year."

As Daisy unpacked the box, she rolled her eyes.  
"Nothing that'll worry her, now, Joe."  
The game keeper just rumbled out a laugh and pulled a face at his favorite cook. (He wasn't usually a long winded story teller, but if ever a moment called for a tale, this was one.)

 

"Just a cautionary tale. You probably won't even need," he paused. "So how big of a goose did you ask for anyway?"  
Sybbie smiled slightly, hearing the teasing in the man's tone.  
"I'm set. They're giving me one about as big as Patrick. That should be enough, with seconds to spare." And the girl nodded proudly, while the two older friends tried not to gulp at what to even Daisy seemed an excessive size for a cottage luncheon.

"Ah, well, then this IS a good story," Joe said, scratching his ear. "My father, you see, was a wily old bastard...bloke." (Daisy snorted.) "And so when they got to the holidays, and they'd been married a few months, he made sure my mum knew he Especially liked a lot of bird.  
" No sprouts for him, mind."  
"And she, like you, ordered a large one. A very large one. Which didn't fit in the icebox very well, though she tried her best to Cram it in."  
(Sybbie and Daisy started to laugh, but Sybbie also began to wonder about how she would stuff something Patty-sized into the refrigerator at the farm.)

 

"Anyway, they didn't worry much. Mum put it out in the shed, using it like a cold cellar. You don't get the goose until a day or before."  
"Dogs?" Daisy asked.  
"No," Joe answered, stroking his chin as he grinned. "The thing froze solid over night."  
"So there's the new wife--m'mum-- starting to wail, and he's trying to joke her out of it...."  
"And then your mum would, quite sensibly smack him, since it's hard enough to cook a big meal, without FOOLISHNESS from some man," Daisy added.  
(Giving Joe a smack herself as she passed by.)

"Foolishness? Husband? Must be talking 'bout me," Andy Parker chimed in, coming to nick a bit of orange off the block.  
Joe tilted the other man a nod as 'hello.'  
"Anyway," he continued. "My dad, the wily....um...bloke, said the very first step to cooking the goose was to chop off the legs and wings, anyway, you see. So he took an ax to it."  
Andy laughed, reaching for a bit of tangerine.

 

"And that helped?" Daisy asked, quite seriously now. A frozen bird was no small disaster for a cook. (And chunks of frozen bird still sounded like bad news.)  
"Well, I'm not sure, but after that every holiday growing up, he'd tell her the goose was wrong--all whole and perfect and browned. It really wasn't right until it was hacked in fourths. Told us all it fit better in the pan the way she'd done it that first year."  
(Sybbie's eyes widened slightly as she added calculating the size of her pan to the size of the fridgedaire.)

"Every year a review of that first argument." The keeper shook his head, remembering fondly. "Amazing any of us were ever conceived, the way they were always nattering and grumbling around."  
Daisy handed over a dish of biscuits to the men, making shooing motions.  
"Enough," she said, though smiling. "Thank you very much for the floor show, gentlemen. Now I'm afraid it's time for you get out, so we women can finish our work."

 

"If you teach her an especially good pudding, do we get some of it downstairs tonight?"  
Andy turned and asked, almost out the door. (Large eyes warm and "pleading.")  
"Don't you always, daft man?" Daisy answered, darting up on tiptoes for a quick farewell kiss.

\---  
Having made their forage, the two men moved down to the servants hall.  
"I think we've things well enough in hand to interrupt him," Andy said, having told Barrow to meet them there.  
"Whether you've enough done or not, there's some need for a rest," Joe said peaceably. "It is OUR holiday too, after all."  
\---

"It's not all done perfectly, but it is all done," Thomas declared, munching on his favorite ginger biscuits and rubbing at his eyes.  
He'd come in to join the other two a few minutes later and sat now leaning back and trying not to slump.  
"And we've a few days just to live normal and make adjustments still."

"You mean you've Christmas and Boxing Day with your family," Joe said. "Resting."  
"No, just Boxing Day at Daniel's. Christmas afternoon, I'll still be here," Thomas nodded.  
"Though Christmas night to spend with you."  
Then, realizing he'd said it in front of Andy, Barrow deeply flushed.

 

Andy, however, seemed to take absolutely no note. "Sam'll be glad that we get a card game in," he said. "I think he's lonely out there with Teddy & Jimmy on the lam."  
Popping the rest of his biscuit in his mouth and chewing, " Though the youngsters coming back brightened him some."  
They all nodded in agreement at this.

 

Samuelson, the gardener, had virtually coopted Master Edward and Clarey over the years.  
In a way that was making more and more sense, Edward Talbot might be the one who oversaw the house, gardens, and history, what with his brother George seeming determined to continue on as a doc while still the heir.

"What I'd like to know is why Johnny Bates isn't home," Andy said, innocently enough.  
He and Johnny had been very briefly in the war together--older and younger soldier side by side--before the boy was injured and sent home.  
That and the fact he'd watched the boy grow up made Andy consider the Bates boy 'community property,' giving him the Right to Know.

 

"Mmm," Barrow said, nodding. "Don't ask Anna. She practically had my head when I tried."  
Joe tilted his head, considering. "I'd say ask the elder John at the card game, but in the end...maybe he and Anna don't know."  
"That's why you think she's upset?" Thomas reached for his tea.

"No, she's upset from worry he's gone over the line with Miss Violet. But it's too late for anyone to stick an oar in now."

"We'll just keep an eye out," Andy grinned at Thomas, echoing the words from the man he knew so well.

\---

Clarey and Edward had, indeed, spent mid morning in the greenhouse, helping; though truly not accomplishing much.  
The gardens had, for the main, been reset after the bivoac troops had moved along.  
History had, again, been restored. (Though with winter on, such improvements were hard to tell.)

Still, the boys had felt very peaceful and happy spending a few hours in their old haunts piddling about.  
And now they were on a ramble down the road to the village, hoping to see more. 

 

"Leave it to you to want to post a package now. Everyone will be scrambling for their last minute things in town, tomorrow being Christmas Eve." Edward shook his head, but smiled.  
It would be a good walk, and he could always look around to see if there was anything more to get from Downton's shelves; for while he'd done his shopping in the city (well organized & thorough as always), there were always additions which could be made to embellish the plan.  
Comfortable, trusting in his friend, Edward threw out for discussion the major concern they both shared:  
"Do you think Johnny's sad he stayed?"

 

The boys knew that it was more than just having got a job in the city, though a job clerking would go along with reading the law as Johnny was.  
However, he still could have come home for a few days, if he and Violet hadn't had an impressive argument....which both boys had discussed the first night.  
"I think your sister doesn't fight fair," Clarey said yet again, not wanting to take sides, but feeling the need.

"Mmm. I'd call her 'fair,' but she can be rather sharp in how she expresses 'fair.' I just wish we knew what it was completely about. That way we would know what to do to help out."  
Edward's sympathy and confidence lightened Clarey's mood, somewhat.  
(Not that much could ever keep Clarey down.)

 

Not wanting to re-plough old ground, Bates changed to a more amenable topic.  
"I'm sure the professor will want the rest of those tomb sketches copied. If you'll help me, we could already start before he sends us back a letter. And we'll both look like champs."

Edward nodded. "Besides Bakewell's and the butcher's, there's a chemist's now. Sybbie said Mrs. Hughes has books and tablets for sale. A carving shop, even a dress maker's next to the bakery and tea shop.  
"We'll have a ramble around the square and a look in every nook and cranny. Then we'll hit those diaries and make our notes."  
It was a pleasant, casual sort of plan, amenable to the two boys who'd grown up closest mates.

\---  
As the boys were talking, their mothers were doing the same.

"What does one wear to a Christmas luncheon with family, if it's not in one's own house?"  
Lady Mary looked at the mirror, considering necklaces--picking up and putting down.  
Anna stood behind her, smoothing her hair but failing to react.  
"Normally I'd say medium smart, but I don't want to look overdressed like I'm trying to out-do them. Nor do I want to dress so casually it looks like I'm intentionally dressing 'down'."

"I'm sure you'll be fine, my lady," Anna said calmly, looping the necklace Lady Mary'd chosen round her neck.  
"Well, I have to see Mr. Kirby today about the new people at Farrabee's. He says they haven't even started to get in their equipment and pigs.  
"But tomorrow, we must decide not only what I'll wear to Sybbie's but also to the party besides."  
Mary stood and picked up a hat from the side table and adjusted it in front of the mirror.  
"You always do steer me right."

 

And without much more of an attempt at conversation, Mary Crawley sailed from the room.  
While she knew their children had hit some sort of bump in things (who couldn't with Violet coming in like a thunder cloud?), she trusted Anna would  
tell her what she needed to hear  
when she needed to hear it.  
Lady Mary Crawley knew the woman was her servant, but she also knew Anna Bates had been the truest friend she'd had her entire adult life.


	5. Chapter 5

-  
-  
-

It was a bright, clear afternoon December 24th.  
True, it was cold, but Downton was having a rare streak of pleasant skies.  
Thankful,  
Sybil and Daniel Barrow were scurrying about, finishing last minute things, making sure that anything which could be done, was.  
The upstairs bedrooms were ready, the food in hand (except the goose, which they'd pick up en route),  
and Daniel had done extra work in the barns to make things easier on the farmhand the next few days.

 

"We'll be fine. Everyone will be just fine," Sybbie mumbled to herself over and over. "They've all got on fine before. This is just another step down the path."  
The young woman smiled as she watched her husband make one last run of things, bringing MaryMargaret & Patrick out, along with assorted packages in his arms.  
His breath came out in little puffs, and feeling her eyes he grinned at her, all cheek and bluster. "We'll leave the treats at the clinic as you said, then make it to the station on time."

 

Children stowed along with bundles in the motor car, Daniel turned to find her moved in nearer, reaching up for a kiss.  
"For confidence," Sybil said.  
"For luck," he agreed, making the kiss into two.

\---  
Fortunately, MaryMargaret was having none of her mother's case of hostess nerves.  
She really had only one grandmother and that woman was coming to visit them now.

"Granny! Granny, here!" the five year old called out, waving as the two Barrow women stepped onto the platform.  
Mary didn't give a fig about what anyone in the village thought, nor any doubts about her Barrow connections.  
She just looked up at Sybil happily and smiled, then back to where the two visitors stood.  
"Come on, mumma, hurry up!"

 

And passing by the indulgently smiling onlookers, feeling her cheeks flame a bit, Sybbie still had to welcome the child's enthusiasm.  
For it certainly broke the ice.  
"Granny!" Mary grinned up at Margaret, when they finally stood toe to toe, grey eyes staring into grey. "I'm ever so glad you're here."

And looking on from just behind, adding her welcome, Sybil knew it was the five year old's confident, enthusiastic hug that saved them.  
And made the car ride back to Longfield easier by far.

\---

"You saw them, then?"  
Elsie Hughes and Dolly Parker were riding back from a visit to Colin Farrabee's, two towns over. They'd had a successful time, but the highlight of the day was a glimpse Elsie'd had of Margaret & Elizabeth Barrow come to town.  
("Go run, Dolly. Ask if they'd come by for a visit during their stay!")

"Yes, I saw them," Dolly said, chuckling. She might be faster than Mrs. Hughes, but it was still a quick sort of business to rush through the station car park, as the old woman directed her to 'follow that man.'  
"Danny Barrow said to tell you hello, and Miss Sybil reminded me to remind you they'd especially like it if you came by Longfield, too. Even stay if you'd like for the holidays.

"Old Mrs. Barrow..." (here Dolly paused, considering, since the two women were of an age) "That is, the senior Mrs. Barrow said they'd make sure and cross paths with you, and the other Mrs. Barrow agreed."

 

Elsie Hughes nodded. "Good," she said firmly.  
"There are a lot of Mrs. Barrows in the mix right now," Dolly grinned at her, teasing.  
"Add in Mr. Barrow up at the big house, and that's quite a gathering of people with those cheekbones and eyes."  
\---

"Now you haven't seen the house, yet, so don't let the strangeness of it fool you. I suggested it to Sybil myself."  
Danny was driving rather more carefully than usual down the road, his wife and baby by his side and his mother and grandmother with MaryMargaret in the back.  
"Strangeness?" his mother said, raising an eyebrow and giving him The Look he'd known since childhood. 

 

"We've tried to make it so it fits the land. Daniel got the idea from a nearby farmer, and I think it quite beautiful," Sybbie said loyally. "Though it isn't the typical farmhouse, after all."

Little Whoops kept them from having to explain further, taking that moment to try to teethe on the gearshift and getting bumped in the snout.  
A slight howl arose, which changed quickly over to a quivering sniff, and then to a giggle as his mother righted him, ran expert hands over him, and then turned him about.

 

"He does that," MaryMargaret informed the visitors from her perch in the back. "Patty's like sun and clouds."  
"Changeable," Margaret replied to her granddaughter, sharing a tiny smile.

"Now, Mary," Daniel said from the front. And to his mother,  
"He's a sturdy little chap, our Whoops. Just prone to drops and bumps."

 

"We'll settle in tonight," Sybil said, hoping by outlining the schedule she'd avoid her own drops and bumps.  
"Tomorrow we'll have Christmas luncheon at the Abbey, a very short, very simple buffet with just the family; and then just us with dinner at home. Christmas cake. Presents."  
In the rear view mirror, Sybil could see her daughter smile.

"Then the next day, everyone at Longfield having goose." She couldn't help a bit of a deadly tone as she said the last word.

Old Mrs. Barrow gave a slight huff from the corner. "I'll have to tell you my story about my first Christmas goose," she said.  
Making Sybil almost groan. (Why did everyone have to tell her their personal disasters just before she had --undoubtedly--her own?)

 

Yet, all in all, it was a comfortable drive,  
helping Sybil regain her considerable Hope. (Even though wars were ended with less negotiation than this.)  
\---

The sun was setting and the evening drawing in,  
and in the village, lights were coming on as people turned more completely toward their holiday mood.

"I'm right on the edge of exhausted," Mrs. Hughes admitted, laughing a bit at herself as she and Dolly also made it home.  
"I think I could do with an early lie down, if you don't mind."  
The two made it back from visiting Mrs. Farrabee, and the both of them had tea in front to warm them....but for once it wasn't the universal panacea Elsie'd often found.

 

"You go," the girl urged. "I'll rinse the dishes and make sure to close up before leaving for home."  
She'd done it before--Mrs. Hughes trusting her with a key. And then they'd have a few days with nothing to do really, the older woman deciding to shut down shop for the holidays after all.

 

Elsie Hughes sighed, contented for once to let someone else take charge.  
"Make sure, though. DO lock up."  
She shook her head, "Lots of strangers in town this week, people who've married into the village families during the war, only now come back to visit.  
"Odd to see unfamiliar faces about." This last bit, she said sadly. 

Time had been Mrs. Hughes'd known every soul within miles of here.  
Times had changed, and not all the changes were good.

Still, the old woman couldn't complain.  
"Good night, Dolly," she ended, rising and walking slowly away.  
"Night Mrs. Hughes! Happy Christmas!" the girl called softly behind her, thinking of what more she could possibly do to help the old dear before she left the cottage that night.

\---

An hour and a half of quiet cleaning and decorating later, Dolly finally felt she could go. 

There was just the sliver of a moon hanging above her as she made her way out the door.  
But before she'd even turned the latch key, a shadow moved across the path.  
Who would be sneaking around like that?

 

Dolly Parker stifled a surprised yell, not wanting to make a scene--at least not yet. Though with strangers Lurking about....  
"Who's there?" she called, with as much defiance as she could muster.  
And from behind the hedge, two heads arose.  
Two familiar faces, though lit eerily by the half light, making Dolly relax and stand down.

"Sorry," Edward Talbot called out, softly. "Truly. We were supposed to drop the things off without anyone seeing."

"My mum and Mr. Barrow sent us, though there's probably some of your parents' things in here, too." Clarey Bates added, walking over, carrying a largish sort of container.  
Both boys were keeping their voices pitched low,  
and though Clarey kept his usual swagger of a walk, both ducked their heads a bit, knowing they'd been caught out, flat.

 

Meanwhile, Dolly pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. She could've lectured--lord knew her granny'd lectured her and Davey enough so she knew what to do.  
But there was something of Andy & Daisy's humor in her that made her more prone to laugh than yell.  
"I helped him carry it over. He's just doing that alone for show," Edward added, seeing the girl seemed friendly.

"Do you still want to leave it on the stoop, then, or since I'm here, do you want to put it inside under the tree?" Dolly raised the key, dangling, in the air.

Grinning madly, Clarey nodded. "That's a good idea!"  
Turning to his chum, "Don't you think?"

 

Edward mulled it over, and after a second or two, agreed. "As long as we're caught....and if YOU can be quiet enough." He jabbed his mate in the side.  
"We appreciate it, thank you. We do."

(He has such beautiful eyes, like sea glass, Dolly thought looking at Edward Talbot. She shook her head and told herself not to be such a fool.)  
"Well come in then, quietly. I'm sure she'll think it a wonderful surprise."  
(And the girl was very happy to know the older woman Would.)


	6. Chapter 6

-  
-  
-

It would've shocked her daughter in law to know that Margaret Barrow had already been over almost all the rooms in Downton Abbey.  
Of course, none of the family were up and about to see her and Thomas roaming, but she'd still given the place a 'once over' before going back to where they were staying with Mrs. Hughes.  
She wouldn't've felt comfortable otherwise; Barrows always kept an eye out, Planning Ahead. (Even when their schemes didn't always bear fruit.)

Not that she really wanted to ever socialize with the toffs her son was marrying into, but she wanted to make sure he was safe. (The letters her cousin Archie had relayed gave a rather bleak picture of how Thomas lived those early years--whether he'd had an important job and plenty of food or not.)  
"They're a good family, under it all," Thomas told her softly as they went through the place  
all those years ago.

The wedding was coming up and Margaret would have to attend, would eat with them in the schoolhouse afterwards. Might have to mix, like it or not.  
"They've not always treated me perfect, but there've been times they've treated me better than I earned. So it all evened out."

 

Margaret wasn't so sure of that, and she'd squeezed her brother's arm as they walked quietly on.  
"The best is coming up," he'd said. "Wait'll you see."

"What, the paintings and carpets aren't best enough?" she'd teased him, padding along beside and feeling like they were children again, walking the streets outside when the Old Man was on a drunk.  
How many hours they'd wandered and looked in windows at the families--lit like scenes on a stage.

"Wait," he'd murmured. Then, smiling as he led her in a door and flipped on a light.  
"Oh, my." And she'd clutched at his hand, looking up and around. So many books, they wrapped the room and stretched from floor to ceiling. (Standing there, as they'd stood when five and ten.)

"Better than the library in school. Two rooms full. And his lordship lets anyone who works here borrow." Thomas nodded.  
"Got mad at Him often enough over the years, but you can't entirely hate the man when all's said and done."

 

And now Margaret would be entering the house through the front door in the daylight.  
Carefully she applied her lipstick.  
Not that she was vain, exactly. Age had knocked some of that out of her.  
But Margaret Barrow had once been what would be considered beautiful, and she didn't want to look shabby in front of anyone even now.

Especially knowing that how they viewed her would have an impact on how they looked at her son and brother afterwards.  
"An hour or a little more and we'll be back," she said calmly to her mother, turning to check her hair.  
"Then they'll have to sit down and Eat here at the farm. Imagine, Danny said they've never done that, and the children right up the road."

\---

"Do you like the tree? It's bigger than ours, but on ours I made some of the ornaments. But this one has ornaments from mumma and the cousins. Even Aunt Mary, too."  
MaryMargaret talked on, filling the air around her grandmother, holding her hand.  
It had an innocent quality, but the child had looked around and spotted what needed done and gone to it with something like a plan.

Thomas had come up when they'd arrived, helped them with their coats and kissed both his mother and sister on the cheek, twiddling Mary under the chin.  
Then he'd gone downstairs, as he'd already told them he'd do, not needing to add any awkwardness here where he actually worked.

"Uncle Thomas has a party," MaryMargaret said. "The staff has a big party with 'crackers' and presents of their own, so he can't miss that, but he'll be at our house tomorrow noon."

 

"That sounds wonderful," her grandmother said, smiling, breathing in the spruce and cinnamon richness of the great hall where they stood.  
"Well, we probably will fall short in comparison to such as that." Tom Branson had come up, then, joining them, followed closely by Lady Mary Crawley.

"We've luncheon, though, and I had the gramophone brought down," she suggested. "A certain young miss likes to play with it."  
No fools the two of them. They knew the child was the quickest solution for success.

 

"I get to eat with the grown ups today?" Mary Margaret looked at her aunt, quite seriously.  
"Do you not want to, sweetheart? You can do as you like." Lady Mary gave her grandniece a very serious look back.

(Margaret Barrow watched as the child considered, enjoying rather childishly her ladyship's look of consternation.)  
"No, I'll be extra good if you all don't mind. Granny doesn't get to come everyday. And, besides, if you've already brought the gramophone down."

 

"Luncheon and a show? Golly, that sounds like fun."  
Lord Grantham came out of the corner which housed the library, smiling,  
relaxed and genial ...or pretending masterfully.  
(A child in the dining room still was unnerving, but perhaps a small bit of change such as MaryMargaret could distract them from the bigger changes that had come.)  
  
"Welcome, Mrs. Barrow. We're so glad you've joined us today. We hope you enjoy our home."

\----

Sybil could have cried, going back toward the farmhouse.  
Tears of relief.  
Thrilled beyond what was quite proper.

No one had squabbled--and that low threshold met, things chugged uphill fairly well.  
Her father got along famously with Daniel's grandmother. (The Branson soft spot for cagey old women, having had a granny like that himself.)  
He sat on one side of her, with Cora on the other, keeping their guest comfortable, or chatting with each other when any silence fell.

 

Her grandfather seemed to have turned on some font of charm for Daniel's mother.  
And in their 'trio,' he and Mary sat one on either side of Margaret Barrow.  
Aunt Mary had managed her usual polite, rather restrained talk, until Margaret made a passing comment on how very highly her brother regarded the woman....  
a truthful compliment, which of course is the very best kind.  
Things thawed remarkably after that.

Of course the cousins could be counted on to help out, for even though Thomas was "Her Barrow," Sybbie knew he was also George's (and Edward's and Violet's, too.)

And over and around them all, like music, the light, happy voice of a child.  
"I did well, didn't I?" MaryMargaret asked from the backseat going home.  
"I didn't drop anything on my dress, and they had all sorts of grown up things to eat.  
"It's really more fun to eat upstairs with Ann & Tommy, but, oh, how nice it was one time to try."

(Which her granny nodded along with--for it hadn't really been too very awful for a first Try for the adults, either.)  
(Of course, there was still another day to come, the more pessimistic, Barrow part of her brain replied.)

\---

Meanwhile downstairs, the servant's luncheon was a success, too.  
With houseguests coming this next week, they had a full roster of staff, which made for a rather overstuffed and boisterous room.  
Silly paper hats, wine at mid day, an excess of rich & savory food.

Daisy Parker always outdid herself for the Christmas luncheon.  
While everyone was at church in the morning, the kitchen staff had two meals going--upstairs and down. And for once each year, it was a draw which menu was the finer.

She enjoyed the abundance of Christmas, truly, Daisy did.  
Long ago she'd had a very starving sort of childhood, and though things were still rationed--even this far out after the war--the cook wasn't going to let the meal fall short.  
Three choices of meat, an elaborate and colorful assortment of veg, cakes so light on the inside and so heavy with frosting they could have won a prize.  
(Her prize was watching Andy tucking in so gleefully, like a little boy again carelessly gobbling down.)

 

Mrs. Patmore and Mr. Mason came by to help celebrate, though for the first time they'd stopped by Mrs. Hughes's cottage and the older woman didn't feel up to coming with.  
"Dolly stayed back, using as an excuse some work, but it still worries me when she's so tired like that." Beryl Patmore shook her head.  
"I'll fill a basket of things for her dinner," Daisy said, decisively.  
"Good. That'll give us a reason to stop there and check on our way back. I wanted to stay, and probably should have done," the older woman said, dithering a bit more. (It wasn't like Elsie at all.)

 

"If you need anything....anything....you know to just call."  
This, from a suddenly very serious Mr. Barrow, got nods of agreement all around.  
"We've dinner service tonight, and I don't think I should wake her late. Perhaps I could stop by tomorrow to drop off something we've conveniently forgot. That's two day's check ins down."  
And when Mrs. Patmore looked questioning, Thomas added. "I'd like to see her myself, you know. Just to know if we need Master George to take a look, too."

 

"Hopefully it's not as serious as all that," Mrs. Patmore said, though Mr. Barrow's role as 'former medic' was well established. "Really, though, I think it was visiting Siobhan Farrabee. Poor woman wants to go back to her home, thinks the new people have some sort of druid cult."  
Here Mrs. Patmore rolled her eyes, an expression of what she thought about such absurdities. "Mrs. Hughes doesn't believe That sort of fairy story, of course, but it's still a worry to her. Seeing a neighbor's mind snapped such as that."

"She'll be fine, I'm sure," Daisy said placating (while also thinking about strange lights she'd seen at the old woman's farm of a morning. Superstition beginning to churn.)  
"But it is good to have a plan, whether we really truly need it or not."

\---

It was far, far later that night when a very small group of men gathered at the keeper's cottage to play cards.  
"It'll be an odd sort of schedule tomorrow," Andy commented. (With Jimmy gone, he was assigned to shuffling, which he did with careful and deliberate thoroughness--tongue at times escaping his teeth.)

"It'll be an odd sort of day, in sum," Thomas answered, thinking with no small dread of the luncheon to come. 

"You've eaten with all the children, repeatedly, over the years in the nursery. And you've socialized with the upstairs at the servants balls way back when. This'll go right."  
Joe was trying to bolster him and Thomas knew it, so he only answered with a smirk.

"Miss Sybbie'll arrange it fine," Sam commented easily.

 

Then for several quiet minutes they all paused contemplating how Very slowly Andy was shuffling the cards.  
The deal started, finally, the tall man heaving a relieved sigh.  
Sam chuckled, making Barrow look. "Wonder if you'll get to sit next to Lady Mary? Better bone up on pigs."  
"Two," the old man said, looking sly.

"I'm sure she'll have me between my own family. It wouldn't do to have me talk to my employers so first hand," Thomas said, drily, having already strategized this with Sybil herself.  
"One," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Three for me," Andy commented.  
"And I'm sure it'll go well, myself. They may be our employers, but they still put their pants on one leg at a time."  
(Though under his breath Thomas muttered, "With help.")

\---

"We should just leave the rest until tomorrow. It'll give me something to do."  
Joe huffed as Thomas considered. The perishables covered, the counters cleared, all was really left was the wash--dishes stacked somewhat untidily, but in the sink. (Surely that counts, Joe grinned.)

Between wine at lunch and a bit of excess during cards,  
they were both well into their cups and going straight to bed sounded enticing, but Barrow's fastidious sensibilities were Strong.

Fussbudget.  
Miller reached out, running a large hand down the other man's arm.  
"P'rhaps we could even stay down here tonight?"

 

That got a chuckle out of the other man.  
"The floor is too hard in front of that fireplace, as you well know."

"Unless you've been canny enough to pile every cushion in the house behind the workroom door. A mound of blankets, too."  
After years of this, Joe knew 'spontaneity' with Thomas sometimes took some 'planning.'

Barrow gave a light, almost whinny, of a laugh--a silly, almost embarrassing sound Joe was sure the people up at the house never had reason to hear.  
A man past middle age, laughing like a boy again, thinking to build a fortress in the front room to sleep under the lights of the Christmas tree.  
(He'd not got any of this as a child, had he? Joe wondered yet again at the cruelty of Thomas's early life.)

 

Taking a step toward the front to begin "organizing," Thomas stopped and took several steps back, bringing himself fully into contact with Joe.  
Kissing, arms going round him, laughing and happy (and quite tiddly)

"Love you," he managed to say into Joe's neck as he kissed it.  
Joe laughed past a ticklish spot. "Love you more, soppy fool that I am."  
Which Miller truly meant. For how had he been so lucky to have in his bed such a beautiful man as Thomas Barrow?  
"But if you keep snogging away like that, we'll end up on the counter instead of in front of the fireplace." Joe laughed. "And then tumbling off onto the floor."

 

"That'd be a predicament to explain at tomorrow's gathering," Thomas agreed, pulling away slightly, grey eyes wide and laughing. Fancy tickled.  
"Lights and sirens all the way to hospital with two old men in the back all black and blue."  
He kissed the keeper slowly and completely on the mouth now, taking his time with it.  
Thomas always had had a most talented mouth.  
Pulling slowly away with a sigh, "I'll set things out double quick."

Joe smiled, admiring the view a moment as Thomas walked out.  
Following behind after only a second, thinking that if the BOTH worked at "organizing" it would go even faster toward their final goal.  
Happy Christmas, just they two.


	7. Chapter 7

-  
-  
-

"Is this how it'll be when the rest of them get married?" Mary groaned softly to Tom as they sat on the sofa waiting for the family to gather.  
By Lady Mary's way of thinking, this was decidedly the 'wrong side of the clock.'  
"I'd assumed they'd all still stay HERE for the holidays, children in tow. I didn't think they'd make us Old Folks gad about."

 

Traditionally Boxing Day was when employers gave their gifts out, though the Crawleys had always given theirs Christmas Day.  
(Church. Presents. Staff luncheon whilst the family had a casual do. Then the family feast at night with the Game.)

The Crawley's Boxing Day was usually left wide open,  
a restful time to enjoy the after glow or nurse headaches not Dress and have Lunch.  
Yet, here they were.

 

"Sybbie came," Tom said, calmly, handing her some tea. "Just imagine a variety of young Crawleys and Talbots added to yesterday.  
"And then we'll make the rounds of where they live. Just like this, every year.  
Unless someone moves far enough away that they come and stay the week."

"I suppose," Mary agreed, though still looking down.  
It might not be well bred to show one's disgruntlement, but filling up the day after Christmas with actual social obligations did seem  
rather poor sport.

"And you aren't Old," Tom added, gallantly a few sips later,  
which finally served to make Mary smile.

\---

At Longfield, another woman was having a grumbly bit of a morning start.

Thanks to Joe's story, Sybil'd got a more reasonable sized goose (So at least that much was right.)  
It had fit the fridge and was sized for her pan, but between those two locations required a great deal of chopping. 

A great deal of very EARLY morning chopping to get the thing done by high noon.  
"It's just luncheon. It's just luncheon. Just a bird and a simple luncheon."  
Sybbie kept muttering to herself to stay calm in the weak morning light.

 

However, her second problem was she wasn't the only early riser.  
"Now you go sit down and rest. You're guests," Sybbie'd tried valiantly to shoo Margaret Barrow from her kitchen, trying to give her a bite and a cuppa and then a polite wave off.  
"The children want to see their grans."  
But her mother in law was used to working herself, so she was having none of this sitting-idle-in-the-front-room business.

"Phht. That's not the way anyone makes a holiday meal, now is it? Not for family."  
Margaret had slid deftly by, setting herself up a station with knives and vegetables.  
"Family helps. Tell me what you're dicing and how fine you want it, and it'll make it go quicker."

One weak protest later, Sybbie gave in, though it was certainly not how she'd planned it to be.  
Wandering through, MaryMargaret joined them, the two old dogs Herb & Matey trailing her down...three pairs of curious blue eyes.  
Sybil sighed.

 

"You need to get these dogs...and your mother....out of here," his wife whispered, as Daniel played through out for a check in the barn.  
"Why?" man-like, he'd smiled at her innocently.  
"Well, for one, if your uncle knows there were dogs in the kitchen at any point in the endeavor, I'll get that look he gives. You know."  
There, his beautiful bride tried a half-way successful impression of Thomas, eyebrows raised and mouth pursed up, horrified. (Daniel nodded, smiling, her point won.)

"And as for your mother, she's a GUEST, even if she keeps insisting she's not."  
This last hissed bit of conversation was unfortunately loud enough to be overheard by the guest herself.

"I won't come stay here again if I'm a Just a 'guest.' Guests stay in town at the inn as paying lodgers. Families help. Now tell me what else to chop."  
Danny shrugged and, taking a bit of plum, whistled the dogs on Out.

 

So Sybbie found most of her morning was spent in the kitchen with her mother in law, the two of them  
side by side.  
And after a while, the young woman began to hum along to the wireless, smiling a bit as her daughter tried very hard to stir and mix and help. (There'd be a quick wash down needed, but Mary looked so happy doing it, that Sybil couldn't bring it in her heart to put a stop to the girl.)  
Maybe they'd avoided disaster after all.

The optimist in Sybbie soared.  
\---

Meanwhile, the morning also had Thomas out and about, finishing up some things before obligations called.  
"Mrs. Parker didn't put you any of that currant wine in the basket, so I just stopped by to drop some off," Thomas said, standing outside Mrs. Hughes's door. 

"You always were a very poor sort of liar, Mr. Barrow," the old lady smiled up at him, gently,  
before moving aside to let the man in.  
"I just needed a bit of rest, really. And I knew there'd be none of that in Downton's hall yesterday."

 

They went in, Thomas looking around and seeing nothing too worrisome.  
"The kettle's just about to crow, so we can have a good cup of tea and a chat before you go on. Mrs. Patmore said you had to go out to Longfield with his lordship. "  
Elsie Hughes gave a smile reminiscent of a much younger woman.

"There's a tale I'd like to hear. And a party where I'd like to go."  
(Oh to be a fly on the wall of the farmhouse when Lord Grantham is asked to pass the sprouts.)

\---

"Really mama, we don't want to be late." Mary fretted. She'd started so dreadfully early, to now be running behind.  
Cora was much too concerned about which hat to wear, though it was probably a subterfuge to distract her husband, who looked like he was primed to re-fight a war.  
They'd got on well enough yesterday, but that was on their home pitch.  
This would be a more challenging situation.

"Did you put the flowers in the car?" his grandmother asked George, as she clicked by the assembly.  
"Yes, granny, though why we didn't send them earlier by way of the gardener, is what I'd like to know. "

 

"Sybbie's partial to Christmas roses," Edward said. "It was just so confusing yesterday, that she didn't pick them up."  
The two brothers stood next to one another, waiting patiently as the footmen helped with coats and the ladies' wraps.

"We've got to make sure this is a Go," Edward said, very seriously and quietly. "Clarey said they even had a practice goose downstairs, which must mean Sybbie's gone completely bonkers. She never lacks confidence, ever, at least not that I've seen show."

"Well, however she ends up cooking, we'll smile manfully and lap it up," George said softly back. "I'm not having the family come to blows over a luncheon, for heavens sake. Not with real problems in the World."

\---

"You, go in there and sit with mum," Margaret commanded her brother when Thomas had knocked and been admitted.  
(Bosses him, too, Sybbie thought, trying not to laugh.)  
"She's tired from the trip, so we have her and the baby by the fire."

Nodding at Sybbie, handing over some wine,  
Barrow obeyed, simple as that.  
\---

Now, even after mending fences, Thomas still felt a bit at loose ends around his mum.  
He trusted she'd loved him (always), and he loved her (always) back.  
Love. Hugs. A kiss.  
Still, there'd always be the shadow of the Old Man between them, even now when they thought they'd worked it out.

Patrick proved a fairly good bit of entertainment, though, and old Mrs. Barrow was soon dozing off after all, as her daughter had predicted.  
"Trip was long," Thomas murmured under his breath,  
putting the baby in his cot and covering his mother with a shawl.  
Leaving his hand on her arm a moment.  
(Adding an even quieter murmur, "glad you came.")

 

And feeling things were under control, taking the tiniest comfortable breath,  
Barrow made his way to the dining room to surreptitiously check the table was properly set.  
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang.

\---  
The first thing that hit the Crawleys was the warmth.  
Surely the small farmhouse was as warm as a day in June.  
Then the aroma.  
The bird had been in a while by the smell of things. A sagey, oniony fog drifted out from the kitchen, along with the smell of citrus notes on top.

 

"Sybil, that smells delicious," Liz said, quickly coming in the open door and giving their hostess a hug.  
Sybbie had come out herself to usher her family in, with MaryMargaret light footed (and a bit sauce covered) behind.

"I hope so," the young wife said, though she sounded rather confident.  
Tired, but confident.  
"I've had some help."

"Not much," Margaret Barrow said, coming through to the front room, having taken off her apron. Wiping her hands with a dish clout, and smoothing back a wayward lank of black hair with her hand.

 

"We're almost there," Sybil said, but it'll still be just to get the last of it on the platters. Perhaps you could all go into the living room and sit."  
She gave them a smile then, just before  
everything started to go (just a bit) south.

\---

Having only partly nodded off, finding himself mainly unsupervised, little Whoops started to look inquisitively around.  
He was not walking yet, our Patrick, but he was a great one for squirming and crawling, and the downstairs cot had an unfortunate way of letting him out.  
This being the front room, there were a variety of places under which a boy could hide once the escape was made.

A roll and a bump, he was on the floor.  
A frown and a few blinks later, he decided he needn't cry.  
Giddily, Whoops explored, scooting under this and that, where thankfully his mother had cleaned. Cleaned and polished, making even the floor slick. (And that much easier on which to slide.)

\---

"Did someone put Patty to bed upstairs?"  
Sybbie asked it of the world at large as she led them to sit in the living room, though Old Mrs. Barrow had been the closest.  
And with multiple heads shaking no,  
that began a Short game of Search.

\---  
Lady Grantham was the one who Won the game. (Although really, it was Whoops that found Her.)

When Cora'd gone to sit on the sofa, thinking to be out of the way, a small, damp hand reached out and attached itself to her ankle.  
(A slight unladylike gasp, but no screech--for Cora had been trained to hide surprises well.)

 

"He does that," MaryMargaret said, hearing the slight intake of breath.  
Getting up from looking under the cabinet, the girl grinned up at Cora.  
"How clever of you to find him so fast."  
("Must make for well dusted floors," Tom muttered under his breath to Mary, making her purse her lips not to laugh.)

 

"Well, that wasn't too very bad," Sybbie said, gratefully. "I suppose that was our one big bump for the day."  
And they all made supportive noises in kind. (For All of them loved Sybil so completely, they'd follow her through whatever might befall.)

"It'll be fine, Sybbie," Edward tried soothingly, "everything smells so very good....."  
just as Matey came running through with what looked like a sizeable drumstick. 

"Or maybe not so fine," added Violet, who'd been nearly knocked flat.  
"Isn't there...." she started, just as Herb ran by "....another one," she finished, having saved herself with a quick sidestep.  
And while not given over to unseemly bursts of hilarity, Violet Talbot did allow herself  
a choking bit of a snort.

 

"Daniel must've left the door open..." Sybil started with the tiniest edge to her voice, just as they heard the young man himself.  
"I could use a bit of help out here," he called.

Coming through quickest, Thomas Barrow found his nephew dousing his hand in the cold water tap.  
"Chestnuts explode," Danny said, rather pathetically to his uncle.  
"Thought I'd surprise everyone with chestnuts roasting outside. Didn't know the ruddy things explode."

"And the bump?" (For a distinct red lump was rising on his forehead.)  
"Pan lid...hit."  
Thomas nodded once, before calling out, "Georgie. I think we could use a doctor for advice."  
Which meant Doctor Crawley came through next, getting ice and checking Daniel thoroughly over with Liz's help.  
"Let's get you out where they can see you, shall we?" George finally suggested, having wrapped things up.  
"Sybbie must be frantic out front."

\---

The younger set moving to get Daniel comfortable, Thomas went from human to culinary triage--  
looking around to dispose of the partially gnawed goose carcass, salvage what could be salvaged of the sides, and forage in the refrigerator for what could be added in.

Almost bumping into Lady Mary as he straightened from looking on the lower shelf. 

"Pardon me, my lady."  
She nodded, very seriously. "I left Mr. Branson to dry Sybbie's tears, and thought I could be somehow useful out here...."  
Her voice drifted off on a questioning note. While she wasn't good at handling tears, THIS wasn't a room in which Mary Crawley's strengths were wont to lie either.  
Barrow blinked at her, trying to think what to suggest.

 

"Mary, if you could slice some of the cold beef from yesterday, maybe I could stir up a sauce? Sybil did such a nice job of it last night that eating left over roast shouldn't bother us a whit."  
Margaret Barrow, came whizzing in just then to take control of the battlefield, having seen her son was banged up, but essentially safe.

"Tommy, get the sides out to the table, cover the roasties so they'll stay warm. And go out and make sure no one loses the baby again, will you?"  
(Without thinking, Barrow rolled his eyes in the direction of Lady Mary's smirk.)  
"And we'll soon have this show back on the road."

\---

By the time the baby was penned in safe and dinner served, everyone was remarkably loosened up.  
Lord Grantham passed dishes along down the row of family, declaring they'd eaten this style when he was at university.  
By jove, he missed such things, he did.  
(His mother had once reminded him that the aristocracy had not survived by intransigence, after all.)

 

Thomas, meanwhile, was looking across at Sybil, his face a reasonable mask of calm, but his eyes dancing and the corners of his mouth periodically twitching Up. 

Down table, George was having a similar lack of control over his features, with Liz having to give him a poke every few minutes or so as he started to make some teasing comment. 

Edward, of course, did the best of them, calmly and precisely eating, complimenting things sincerely, telling Daniel it was a build up of steam pressure inside the roasting chestnuts that caused the blow ups. "You need to prick a hole in the outsides, you see. We can try again next year and do it right."

\---

And much later,  
in bed that night,  
Sybil lay half way between grumbling and tears  
wrapped completely in Daniel's arms.

"Everyone has a 'first goose' story, Syb. Now that you have yours, next time'll be easy as cake."  
"Next time," his wife groaned softly, nuzzling into the softness of hair on his chest.  
"Let's not think of next time quite yet."

Then  
"Cake?" and she closed her eyes and knocked her forehead slightly.  
"The pudding's still in the 'safe,' by the way. I guess we can light it tomorrow, since I forgot both it and the angel cake."


	8. Chapter 8

-  
-  
-  
"Thanks ever so,"  
Daisy said, smiling widely so her dimples showed.  
Sybbie was returning a pan she'd "borrowed," even though she hadn't really needed to borrow a pan.  
"Thank you for the 'loan,'" Sybil replied, smiling back.  
Daisy had poured her a cup of tea and she sat by the counter, sipping now that she had shucked her heavy coat.  
The kitchen was cozy and warm.  
  
The visitors and the children were completely Daniel's concern for a few hours as she ran this 'important' errrand of return. (Daisy's recommendation--both knowing Sybbie might need a bit of a break...and wanting first hand to hear how things had gone.)

 

"Oh, it was hideous," Sybbie said, starting to laugh now that her tears were dried.  
"The first few minutes they arrived, Donk looked like he was chewing brass.  
And Danny's mother came in, trying to be nice, but it was as though it was 'us against them' since they knew she'd helped."

"Next year you can ask your Aunt Mary if she'd like to come early and help." The cook stared at the girl a silent second, before each started giggling.  
"Well to be fair, she did somewhat, later, but OH!...." Sybil gave a theatrical little groan.  
"The baby. And the dogs." She shook her head, trying to think how to tell it. 

"Thomas told me the dogs got the goose, but that you handled it all Quite Well,"  
Daisy relayed the compliment seriously enough, and Sybbie believe that was what Barrow'd said...he'd never fail to bolster her......and yet.  
"I didn't do very well," she admitted. 

 

"Well, I would have had hysterics myself. So, really, if you think on it, anything better actually could be seen as handling it well."  
Smiling a bit smugly, Daisy ducked out and came back in with a tray on which two sizeable bowls rested.  
"Ice cream?" Sybbie said, her voice such a remarkable reflection of her ten year old self, the cook almost expected her to clap hands. ("You needed a treat," the older woman murmured as she set out the dishes in front of them.)

 

Then in explanation as they tucked in,  
"Practice for the party, that. Lady Grantham had it in mind to have peppermint stick ice cream in those fiddly crystal dishes. Then with it, little silver cups of hot chocolate after the soloist sings. Kind of a second dessert after the meal and the show.  
"They're filling the whole room up with flowers right now; it's like a wonderland. Some sort of American thing she saw somewhere."  
Sybbie smiled.  
As a little girl she could remember Christmas parties. There'd been a need to cut back, of course, through the slump and war years. (Not that they'd ever truly 'wanted' for anything, even when the level of extravagance fell.)  
This might not be anywhere near as glamorous as she remembered from her childhood, but it still made her nostalgic to hear.

 

"Are you sure you and Daniel don't want to come?" Daisy added, cautiously.  
"Even if Mrs. Barrow still refuses, she could visit with Mrs. Hughes or go out to Yew Tree for the evening."  
It wasn't exactly the cook's place to meddle in upstairs business,  
but it was very much her place as a friend to poke around in Syb's.  
(And it seemed sad to her--really, truly it did.)

"No," Sybbie said. "That's not quite fair. Besides, this party's for Georgie, and if I'm around, I'll be a distraction....with the usual talk."  
She grinned. "Not that Daniel & I couldn't face down the county crones. We just like to pick our battles...and this particular party shouldn't be one of them. We've enough with our guests at home."  
Sighing a bit, the two women gave themselves over to the comfort of ice cream, sinking into it.

"I really need to know how to make this myself," Sybbie said, sadly contemplating her nearly empty dish.  
"In the meantime, I've a batch set aside for you to take," Daisy said, grinning as the other woman's face brightened.  
"Golly, you're too good to me," Sybbie smiled at her. Then teasing, "Good thing I came by." 

\---

"Do you really think we ought to do this?" Dolly Parker asked Mrs. Hughes, having loaded the old woman into her roadster.  
She'd warmed it up as best she could, even tucked a throw over her guest--like some ancient lap robe in a sleigh.  
"The roads out there aren't all good."  
Yet Elsie Hughes had it in her head to drive up to the Farrabee Farm, to see what she could see.

A light rain had started, extremely cold, which meant they couldn't get out and prowl--  
by Dolly's way of thinking, blocking any chance of success before they'd even started.  
However, it was what her boss wished to do. (And Mrs. Hughes had a way of bossing--gentle yet firm--that made any sort of 'no' impossible to say.)

 

Now, straightening her hat, the woman once again Insisted.  
"I can't stand everyone pussy footing around me these days. I'm old, not dead."  
"Colin thinks Siobhan's too old to make sense, but that woman has a sharp mind. If someone had her fooled, it's because they made up an awfully convincing lie trying to push her away from home."

So on they flew.

Dolly hadn't been teasing about the conditions of the roads. The main ones were well paved and kept. (Though the rain was cold enough to make ice in spots and no one had gritted them adequately. )  
However, as one got closer to the actual house, the lane was unpaved, and quite unimproved.  
Old Mrs. Farrabee might have been friendly enough around town, but she hadn't much welcomed visitors this far out. (Once threatening to shoot the warden flat during a blackout check--for the old woman believed she alone was in charge of Her World. Even should Hitler invade.)

 

And now she was settled in a small corner of her son's home--unsettled, rather, which was in turn unsettling Elsie Hughes.  
"It's not too very bad," the old woman murmured, pulling her scarf away from her neck as the car's heat kicked in. "Time was, we'd be doing this in a wagon behind a horse."  
And the two chuckled a bit at the thought, though truthfully a few of the farmers still insisted on coming to town still in their wagons...horses gazing resentfully at the cars.

"It's just a little ways further," Dolly murmured.  
Every foot of every farm lane was engraved in her memory from walking in scrap drives as a youngster.  
Two more bends in the road and a dip.  
The Farrabee's house was built along a hill, and actually had a cave behind. (Which, of course, Davey had made her explore.)  
While the old lady hadn't like children trespassing, either, the Parkers were neighbors of sorts and got a pass.  
A pass and a slice of pie.

 

Remembering,  
Dolly smiled slightly as they pulled up near as she could to the structure now.  
She honked the horn, startling her passenger. ("I'm not getting out around strangers unless they've been given a warning someone's here. It's shooting season, you know.")  
And looking around through half fogged glass, she honked again lightly. Though nothing stirred.  
"Well, in for a penny in for a pound," Mrs. Hughes commented gaily, starting to untuck herself. 

"Do you think we really...." Dolly got out before scrambling out of her seat and around to help.  
If she was quick about it, maybe she could get the umbrella over the woman before she (slowly) jumped out.

\---

"I think we've got everything set," Thomas said, coming into the kitchen, trailed by Sam.  
The gardener rolled his eyes as he drew near.  
"I need a treat from my favorite cook, after what this idjit's had me doing," the old man pretended to grumble, more to cadge sweets than to actually complain.

"And I'll set you up, though you'll need to take it somewheres else so the girls can keep working." It wasn't that she didn't like the man, of course; she did.  
However, they were at the highpoint of preparing dinner as well as beginning to lay by some things for tomorrow's start.  
(And everyone always seemed to want to nick something;  
at times like this, Daisy understood Mrs. Patmore's yells of 'cheeky beggar' more and more.)  
"I'll come in with some blooms to freshen things in the morning," Sam said, nodding to Thomas, and--making a silly bow to the cook & kitchen maids--the ancient Cavalier moved on.

 

"He'll never stop, will he?" Thomas said, rubbing his neck.  
Here Barrow was almost too tired to move and the gardener was still pulling pranks.  
"I'm sorry to say we have one more guest pushing in at the last moment, so you'll have to adjust your counts."  
(Daisy huffed. "Rude.")  
Humming his agreement, Thomas turned and walked to the door.

"Tomorrow's dinner and music; the next day the shoot; after that the more local guests leave and we have the smaller group for the rest of the holiday.  
"Don't worry, we'll make it through."

However, the two friends looked at each other and shook their heads, the tiniest bit exasperated. (If the honored guests above stairs only knew.)

\---

"It was as bleak and desolate as ever a place could be."

Elsie Hughes was sitting in the Yew Tree kitchen, drinking tea with Beryl Patmore.  
As long as they were 'gallivanting,' the old woman asked Dolly to drive her on over to the girl's home so that she and her friend could have a sip and a talk.  
"Grey, dismal, weeds growing through the cracks on the path to the door.  
Didn't look to me like anyone was actually set up to live in the house."

Mrs. Patmore brought over a tray of pasties.  
An afternoon like this required something more substantial than just a sweet.  
"Terrible when people get a place and don't know even enough to start up. You'd think Lady Mary would've checked before this."

 

"Ah, but they've just allowed this family in, what with Siobhan having to leave out in late fall. And with the holidays....and this party of Lord Grantham's..."  
Elsie let her voice trail off. 

"Imagine little Master George a viscount," Beryl grinned.  
To her, he'd always be the blond cherub who forced Mr. Barrow to play pig a back.  
"He'll do better than he might have done. That one's got a feel for how people suffer, what with being a doctor....and after the war."  
Mrs. Hughes' stamp of approval didn't come easily when it came to the nobility, and Mrs. Patmore nodded, accepting her judgment.

 

"But Farrabee's?" she asked, nudging their way back to the original topic.  
"All I could find was a man's dress scarf. Pretty thing, all swirls and colors of green, so someone's been there. I put it on the porch for them to find when they come back.  
"But they haven't got a stick of furniture showing through the windows, and even if we didn't troop through the barn, the place had a silence about it that said no animals were around."  
"Sad," murmured Mrs. Patmore, as she drank a bit more.


	9. Chapter 9

-  
-  
-  
(Note: This ended up a sad sort of chapter. Sorry. I'll try to be fluffier tomorrow.)  
-  
-  
-

 

Thomas Barrow paced through the first floor of the Abbey, checking one last time for any imperfections. (The ghost of Carson still on his shoulder, whispering to make sure there were none.)  
Every surface which could be polished, shone.  
Flowers were arranged perfectly.  
The tree still stood, decorated with a balance of children's offerings and delicate ornaments.  
Barrow nodded to staff as he walked past, knowing that they were  
ready for today's onslaught. 

"Andy, I don't have anyone on the list to arrive for a while, but let's have two or three of the younger lads standing by the door all the same, just in case. Now that everything else seems to be done."  
Parker went to marshal the troops as Barrow continued his walk ( a hint more swagger in it now.)  
He needed one last check with Phyllis Moseley on how the family was settling in.

 

The Pelhams and Aldridges had arrived late the night before, while Lady Grantham's brother and his wife came early that day.  
Even though Lady Rose had only brought her two oldest, that still made for a good number of guests just from the family.  
They'd assigned them, as well the guests who'd traveled furthest, to the rooms which were set up en suite, figuring they'd have more than a night's stay.

"Let's hope everything rolls smoothly from here," Barrow said, stepping smartly on.

\---

"This should look better with the dress, don't you think," Lady Mary asked, putting a short length jacket over.  
The New Look had a nipped in waist and was designed to show off curves, whereas Mary looked better in the gamine styles of the past. At least adding the jacket might help.  
"It looks wonderful, my lady."  
Anna said it quietly, and moved in to smooth and straighten, finishing the job of dressing Lady Mary to go down. 

"Anna. This isn't just about Johnny, is it?" Mary paused. She'd tried to get the woman to talk earlier in the week and given up, assuming things would work themselves out. Yet they hadn't.

"My lady?" the maid stood there, questioning.  
"You. Standing there looking...blank. I thought it was Johnny staying down south for his job. However by now you'd've moved on from being sad about that--either put it aside or decided to go extra brisk and efficient....which would mean you're angry."

 

Anna's tone took on a hint of amusement. "I'm always efficient, aren't I, my lady?"  
"Yes, but there's a way you have when you're put out..." Mary smiled back. After all, over the years she had noticed SOME things about Anna May Bates.  
"So why do you still seem to be...unfocused, for lack of a better word?" Mary peered anxiously in the mirror, checking herself before turning and peering anxiously at the other woman, too.  
"I feel fine, my lady," Anna denied quickly, and trying to be 'brisk,' she moved to finish with what needed her help.

\---

"You'll be in trouble if you don't get into a monkey suit and go down soon," Clarey said absently, copying text onto a drawing pad.  
They'd made a good headway on the notes, he and Edward, but there was still quite a bit left to do. 

The younger Bates had brought a hoard of food to the room when they started, and intended to stay closeted inside for a good long time.  
He knew if he got anywhere that his mother saw him, he'd be drafted into some sort of labor; and Clarey'd be hanged before he got squeezed into a livery and asked to serve drinks to a crowd.

 

"If Sybbie doesn't need to go, I don't see why I do," Edward said the tiniest bit moodily. 

"Phht. She SHOULD, and YOU just do," Clarey said. "And you know it...and you know you love it when you aren't in a pet."  
He stopped everything to look at his friend.  
"Go down and 'Crawley Around' a bit while I finish this up...then maybe we can prowl the grounds."  
(Grinning as Edward perked up slightly, Clarey felt better for having solved the problem before it got out of hand.)

-

"London isn't like it was, these days," Lady Darnley announced sadly as Andrew took her cloak. She and Sir John were glad to be back in the country for a few days, having been friends of the Crawleys all those years ago.  
"We don't get up to London nearly as much as I'd like," Lady Grantham replied, greeting her warmly. "My brother had our London house, but never rebuilt it after the blitz."  
The two nodded. 

"All the crime, you're truly better off here."

"Come spring I'll come down and stay at the club, get caught up on all the happenings," Lord Grantham said to her husband.  
"Well, we've kept our London House, and you're welcome..." the old man offered tentatively. "But Tim's health, you know, after Kenya. It makes most people hesitant to come."  
"Poor boy," Robert said.  
"Lucky though, to see your George so fit."  
(Yes, thought Robert. It was a blessing to have a sensible and healthy heir.)

\---

"So many houses are falling into disrepair. How clever of you to turn yours to business, Lady Hexham."  
Ann Haverby drawled, taking a sip.  
The countess and her husband had established themselves upstairs with their friends already and returned back down.

"Bertie doesn't really consider the school housed at Brancaster a business so much as being Useful," Lady Edith countered. "Something the king stressed so much in the war."

Edith Pelham was much better at dealing with the social game, having spent years successfully in play. "And we were so sorry to hear about your Theodore. So very glad after All he's been Through that he came."  
Nodding, smiling (jaws clenched slightly), the two moved apart.

\---

By evening all of the guests had come and they were about ready to go in.  
Circling the gathering once more, Cora gave Mary a nod as she moved past.  
"Mama's about to have us go in," she said, turning to Tom.

"I see Evelyn Napier's here," he teased, taking one last gulp of his cocktail before making ready to move with the crowd.  
"Poor man. Did you see his wife?" she replied, raising an eyebrow. "Such an unfortunate nose."  
She smiled as he sputtered mid sip. ("You're certainly on form," he mumbled, putting the glass down on a passing tray.)

 

"Well, he married late, but he married young," she drawled, enjoying carving in a little deeper as she and Branson walked. "Why, I suppose Viscount Branksome could have a baby on his knee next holiday."

"Lord," Tom managed. "Think of that after all these years."  
Mary hummed. "Though I suppose I shouldn't be mean. Evelyn has been one of the nicest of our set for a long, long time."  
\--

Dinner was served, exclaimed over, consumed with Polite enthusiasm.  
Jewels twinkled by candlelight (for ambience, the electric kept low.)  
Flowers, soft conversation, everything moved along in a predictable flow.  
Finally, they reached the evening lull.

 

"Lords, ladies, and gentlemen, might I have one moment of your attention before we move from this genial atmosphere," Robert Crawley said.  
The old man stood, "It is a tradition that an heir may receive the second highest title of his estate early. And with that in mind, I wished tonight to give to you the heir to the Crawley family. Our young George, who served honorably during this last war and continues to serve Downton, its people, and this family.  
"I give to you George Crawley, Viscount Downton.  
"To George."

The group rose, raising glasses and replying variously with toasts of agreement.

Lady Grantham, who had risen with them, pitched her voice just enough to be heard in the crowd, "And now let's go through, where we have a special entertainment planned. "  
\---

Truly,  
It had been a very long time since Downton had featured a soloist at one of its parties.  
Lady Rose had actually suggested this one to Cora, having met the contralto when she'd been a singer for CEMA during the war.  
"She's ever so good, cousin Cora," Rose enthused when they'd had luncheon together. "She toured the States and everything, though she's originally from here."

The assembly settled, servants standing in back and when it  
began, Cora and Rose exchanged a smile....perfect.

 

Meanwhile, Anna Bates froze as the heartrending sounds of the music wrapped round her.  
It was an odd sensation which **intensified **in the moment.  
** ** She thought at first she was coming on with a headache and started to go down and.....  
get a powder.  
Then, blinking she thought. No, surely not.  
Not after all this time.

********

But a shiver ran through her ever so slightly, just as it had when she'd first heard the singer was planned.

Beside her, John looked over and smiled, covering her hand with his where no one could see.  
Like an anchor, she felt it, turned her hand and laced her fingers into it.  
"I think I need to go down," she whispered.  
"Come with?"

 

And though he didn't understand, John Bates stood up and (as unobtrusively as they could) went out.  
"What?" Andrew whispered to Barrow.  
The butler shrugged, but if there was a problem he wanted to help so he slid out, too.

Thomas moved through the baize door and down.  
He could hear the tap of Bates' cane up ahead, and a very faint murmur of voices, but nothing else.  
Moving faster than the two of them, he came up to the hall at about the same time.  
"Is there something wrong?"

Anna had the oddest look on her face, as though she was confused and very upset at the same time. While Barrow knew she'd been a little off during the week, this was actually concerning.  
"Anna? I said is there Something Wrong?"

 

"It's fine, Thomas," Bates tried to wave him off.  
  
"If you're sure."  
Barrow stood there a moment as the man led Anna to a seat.  
"Perhaps...something warm? Or should you lie down?"  
His medic training said she looked fine, but his training with Mrs. Hughes suggested she was not.  
Barrow went with Mrs. Hughes.  
"Whatever's wrong...."

But the door opened and two laughing young men appeared.  
\---

"It's my fault, Mrs. Bates, truly," Edward Talbot insisted a few moments later. "I was in the worst sort of mood and Clarey just promised me a ramble to keep me from cracking up."  
Clarey laughed.  
"She knows you didn't have to do much to make me go," he said, grinning at his mother.  
But  
"I did absolutely hours of work for the professor, so I'm not just a roustabout."  
"And he wouldn't've gone down at all without some sort of promise of fun."

 

Clarey looked confused as his mother didn't much react.  
"Are you feeling all right, mum?" (About now, she should be blessing him out.)

 

"Your mother has a headache," Bates supplied.  
"And we're trying to convince her to lie down," Barrow continued, a smooth counterpoint.  
("Perhaps I will go up. Tomorrow I'll be right as rain," Anna murmured as she made herself move.)

The butler still wasn't sure what was going on, though hopefully later he'd suss it out.  
Meanwhile, he needed Anna cared for and to get himself and the boys back upstairs before the singer was done.

\---  
"How'd we manage to get past them with shoes this muddy and no lecture?"  
Clarey wasn't exactly questioning his luck and yet he was....questioning his luck. His mother'd been so distracted, and....

"I'd say you should check on your mother, except Barrow sent her to lie down, so you can't."  
Edward began quickly to change back into the appropriate clothes, hoping to blend in at the end for the reception after.

"Those lights were something like," he said, still baffled by the sight.  
"Dolly did say they were doing something odd," Clarey agreed. "Glad we drove over. Though when we have more time, we need to walk a longer way in."

 

"Not tonight, though," Edward said, looking in the mirror and trying to carefully arrange his tie.  
"What a gob....Here," Clarey said, turning him sideways and tweaking it into place.  
"For a gentleman, why can't you ever get the thing right?"

Then, as a worried look skittered past his eyes, Edward leaned in and said simply,  
"Your father's with her. Barrow knows. Just like your mother said, Clarey,  
tomorrow she'll be back just fine."

And nodding, one to the other, the boys separated for the night.


	10. Chapter 10

-  
-  
-  
Robert Crawley, it must be admitted, had started to half doze during the opera the night before.  
Cora might have been enthralled, but while he found the music pleasant, Robert was more fond of what they had scheduled for entertainment the next day--a shoot.  
For even at his age, Lord Grantham wouldn't be parted from his guns.

 

However,  
"I wish we had a bit clearer day for it," he grumbled to Joe Miller as the shoot started and the dampness began to make itself felt in his bones.  
The keeper nodded sympathetically. He was in charge of the whole set up, yet had taken the time to load for the old man.  
"Clear enough for the birds to rise, my lord," Joe replied, steadily. "I'm sure you'll have a good shot."

He knew the earl was moving more slowly, of course; the two of them went out sometimes on their own. (Shooter & loader, going to spots he knew the birds to be, with just a dog to flush them out.)  
Miller had chosen the day's route as craftily as possible, knowing that infirmities were catching up to Lord Grantham, yet not wanting to let the old man down.  
They'd have two drives before the luncheon, with cars hauling them about between access points selected for the shortest possible walk.  
It was the best he could do.

 

"The beaters were happy enough this morning when I saw them. Old Mac says it'll be a record day for sure." Miller's tone was pure encouragement, and  
Both men chuckled. (The beaters were always optimistic....at least at the start. And if the count was low, they'd merely shrug and say 'wait 'til next time. We'll git'em then.')

 

"You've done a good job, Miller," Lord Grantham said as they reached the peg.  
"Everyone loves a well organized shoot, and I want George to really get a feel for how a large scale one is done."  
Robert shook his head. "Everything has been punier those last few years as he grew up, and we need to show him how it's done in style now that he's a man."

\---

"So you're good at this?" Liz Stanton asked, smiling up at George from beneath her eye lashes. "It's a long way from a surgery."  
Crawley huffed. "Families like ours always shoot, though Donk hasn't inflicted anything of quite this large a scale on us for some time."  
He didn't mind it in the woods, even if he wasn't as avid about it as his grandfather.  
"Peaceful at least, between the drives as we walk."

Looking down, though, noticing her shiver, "Are you cold? Should we go back? We can if you'd like."  
She had gloves on, a hat, sturdy coat and boots--George went through the inventory methodically, if not romantically. Still, she looked cold.  
"I'm fine," she said, tucking her hands around his arm and leaning in as they reached the peg.  
"Look like you're cold," he said, taking his arm loose and in what he thought to be a rather daring move, wrapping her round.

 

Behind him, the loader exhaled in what Crawley knew was amusement.  
And as Liz turned in towards him, cuddling a bit closer, George looked over her head to the man and half glared, half grinned at him.  
(You'd best not tell everyone, he thought. Then, oh lord, about an hour from now the entire village would know Doctor Crawley'd been hugging the midwife, instead of shooting at birds as he was wont to do.)

\---

"Papa loves this," Lady Mary commented, as she walked along side of Tom.  
"He's in his glory," Branson agreed. "And don't worry, they've got him positioned just right for the least rambling and the most gain."

She smirked. "The beaters are angling the birds toward him, are they?"  
"Aren't they angling them toward us all?"  
The loader handed Tom his 12 bore and stood back as a tinny horn floated through the air.  
"That's it, then."

 

Tom aimed and shot with precision.  
He'd come a long way from plinking pigeons as a boy.  
"Well done, you," Mary complimented. "Though I always do feel rather bad for the bird, even when I'm impressed by your shot."  
He huffed. The county was full of shoots and hunts, still.  
(One of the largest disagreements he'd heard was when they'd found men hoarding back more than the allotted ammunition for personal use during the war.)

"And yet you still eat pheasant," he commented lightly.  
"Yes," she nodded. "And yet I do."

\---

Luncheon was in a hall near the second location, what with the weather far too chill for any sort of tent.  
The ladies who'd chosen not to walk alongside their men were driven. And everyone was now reunited in a warm and cozy meal.  
Beaters might have their cheese and bread round a fire pit, but a Downton shooting luncheon could get quite elaborate. Though they always termed it 'rustic' and had an appropriately picked menu to match.

 

Sitting back in his chair, tired and relaxed, George had to smile at Liz.  
In spite of her best efforts, curls were springing from her hat, and her cheeks were flushed and pink.  
She'd kept going from place to place, made a mission of it, right by his side,  
insisting after that first time she was quite warm enough to see things through.  
(He was a bit disappointed at that, frankly, preferring the snuggling to the shoot.)

"What?" she murmured, seeing him staring.  
"Have I a smudge or something?"  
And she lifted slim, busy fingers to clear her forehead.

 

"You look beautiful," George said, only half thinking, then blushed.  
"Well, I mean... you always look that."  
It wasn't the compliment so much he wished to back away from as his tone when he'd said it. Like some soppy schoolboy, when he was an 'ancient' twenty seven.

Yet she smiled.  
"Hold that thought for tonight. My dress was a veritable committee decision, and I swear your mother is trying to spoil me."  
Liz was blushing more than she had been, and between courses she leaned in once or twice, squeezing George's hand possessively.

 

Beautiful, was she? Any man who called her that when so untidy was a man she intended to keep. (Though of course HE'D have to be the one to do the final asking....and figuring out how to get him to do that might take a committee, too.)  
"It's been such a wonderful day today, hasn't it?" Liz asked, smiling up at George with wide eyes.

\---

"I need a bath. And a nap. And maybe a second bath after that."  
Edward Talbot came in at the end of the day's shooting rather rumpled and "glowing."

"Good day of it?" Clarey asked, turning from the desk.  
Bates was rather rumpled, too, though without the glow.  
"Quite respectable," Edward said, which to his mate meant he'd managed to do better than most of the others, though not all. (Which should really have made it 'excellent' given his age. Edward was his own harshest judge.)

 

"And I suppose you've sat there while I was out in the briars?"  
Talbot always refused a valet, and the gathering of what he needed for his ablutions distracted him from looking toward his friend.  
His less than cheery friend.  
"No," Clarey said. "I went to check on mum, of course. And unfortunately became somewhat of a dogsbody for most of the time. I really only just Started here."  
As Edward turned sympathetic eyes on him, Clarey shrugged.

 

"And your mother?"

"Better, thanks. She seems perfectly normal...quite normal enough to make me help the maids carrying things back and forth as they cleaned the rooms.

"At least one good thing came of it--other than being able to make Sure she was all right."  
Clarey grinned then, knowing he was about to 'out do' Edward on the day's 'winning.'  
"I saw that one of your guests has a scarf just like the one Dolly drew. The one from the Farrabee Farm."


	11. Chapter 11

-  
-  
-

"Everyone's having drinks in the drawing room. They think I've gone up, though it's quite early still."  
Violet Talbot pulled the door to the small room almost closed, wanting to talk privately on the telephone.  
(It was close and overwarm in the space, smelling almost too highly of polish and flowers.)

"Everyone but our brothers, of course. I saw them sneak by, carrying their coats. Want to wager Clarey has Edward talked into some scheme?"  
(Her voice cracked slightly in spite of it being a silly enough topic,  
and she wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she weren't alone.)

"Those two," Johnny's familiar chuckle filled her ear, rich and soothing and low.  
"Sometimes I think their lives are as uncomplicated as they were at ten."  
The silence hung there a moment, filled only with soft breathing across the miles of wire.

 

"Wish you were here," Violet finally admitted.  
"Me, too, but I will admit you were right." Again, she could hear him huff out in amusement and in her imagination she could clearly picture him as he was, slouching back, running his hand through his hair as he Thought.

"I don't care if I was or not," Violet admitted, though she usually cared Very Much about being right about things.  
Another huff of laughter on the line, and she smiled slightly, relaxing just a touch.

"Are WE all right?"  
Her question hung there between them with just static answering for a moment. 

 

"I don't know," he said, but then...  
"Of course, I DO know I still love you, 'Miss' Violet." The name was said in a teasing tone, with a warm undercurrent of affection.  
"I just don't know how to get to the end of that, where we can live Happily like in those children's books Nanny used to read."  
"And I need to worry about Planning it more, since it's worrying You."

 

"Right now I'd rather have you here, Plan or not," she said, breathing again.  
If he still loved her, if she hadn't ruined it trying to make him something he wasn't,  
it would all work through.

"You just want half of this biscuit I'm eating. It's gingery and so very, very good that you're truly missing out." Intentionally he crunched into it on the line, trying to provoke a smile he wouldn't see (except in his mind.)

"Not as good as Mrs. Parker's," she replied, regretting she'd cheated him of that.  
"It is hers," he said. (And she could Hear him grinning that slow way that he had.)  
"Other people at Downton fuss about me, you know.  
"Now let me make you so jealous of my treat you'll have to go down and get one of your own to eat or not sleep at all tonight."

\---

The woods, meanwhile, were neither warm nor cozy with touches of gingersnap.  
The woods were cold and dripping slightly from half melting snow.  
The two shadowy figures moving through smelled of wet wool and a bit of wood smoke.

The latter was Edward's overcoat, still not aired out from the shooting and the lunch.  
"Why would Theodore Haverby be anywhere near a farm out here?"  
(Talbot blew out a plume of breath in exasperation. Clarey was sure of the 'clue,' just as he'd been sure of clues about 'spies' and 'burglars' during their childhood romps.)  
"It's bound to just be a similar scarf."

 

"Probably," Clarey said, grinning back casually.  
They'd driven fairly close on the frontage road and were now whispering back and forth as they went closer in to the old farmhouse.  
The closer they walked, the less they talked.

"We shouldn't be here."  
"Your parents own the place."  
"It's been let out."  
"To someone who's obviously playing your family for a fool......Look."

 

And the last hiss came as Clarey put his arm out, blocking Edward from the path.  
The lights were ahead, moving up and down and around. Faint yellowish blobs, glowing, seeming to dance.  
In the quiet and nearness they could hear a muttering of voices, but the words were indistinct.

"We need to get just a little closer," this last was whispered in warm breath in Edward's ear.  
Then Clarey moved away and in the darkness it was as though  
he was gone.

 

Edward rolled his eyes and followed, carefully placing his feet so that the undergrowth didn't snap.  
He'd only been willing to come after one too many rude comments to his uncle Tom by the Haverbys, and an oblique sort of question about where his cousin Sybil was.  
("And she had so many opportunities, too.")  
Theodore Haverby might not be guilty of anything but poor taste in scarves, but his parents were guilty of being unnecessarily cruel.

And so he'd agreed to go out here--why--in hopes they'd find some clandestine rendezvous their heir had with a local girl? Some hideout for spies?  
Edward snorted slightly without meaning to.

Ahead of him, the lights kept moving and he began to hear the voices clearer.  
Before it all went black.

\---

Yew Tree's evening started earlier than that, with Bertie Mason suddenly deciding to shake his boots.  
"Suits me. Want t'go, Dolly?" her brother had coaxed. " There's to be a screening of a picture show in the church to make money for the guild."

"We can go by Longfield and kidnap the Barrow women, and surprise Elsie Hughes at her place, too," her granny'd added in.

Dolly'd shaken her head no, though it did sound like the old ladies would have a fun time of it. (Oh, the things you could learn serving tea to a group of old ladies who were enjoying a good catch up after a village 'do'.)  
But with her parents at the big house, and her grandparents out and roaming, she'd be able to do some roaming, too.

 

"I think I'll just turn in early and rest," she said, smiling and thinking. Not only Clarey Bates could have adventures. She'd show those Two boys who was who.

\---

"It's just they aren't back yet, and I don't want to see them locked out."  
Violet had gone downstairs and now stood near the butler's office, regretting she'd bothered Barrow.  
However, it would be more of a bother if they locked up tight and the two boys were left out in the snow. (That was her only reason, not the teasing voice of Johnny about some daft ginger bics.)

"Should we send out a search party, or it there something else you could be telling me?"  
Barrow studied the young woman over. She did look worried, but it might not have to do with Master Edward at all.

 

"Nothing I can tell you. They didn't even tell me they were leaving. I saw them when I went to use the telephone."  
(Ah, that was the guilty, worried expression on her face, Barrow thought.)  
"I don't want to call them out to mama or Anna. And I don't mean for you to stay up.  
"Maybe just leave the door unlocked? Surely it can't be that dangerous, even now, in Downton."

 

Barrow nodded, thinking things over. He highly doubted Master Edward or Clarey would be down at the local pub getting squiffy. (So no need for a rescue like that.)  
Yet, the two did like to explore. (Hopefully they'd just lost track of time.)

"Even Downton shouldn't be left open, especially with so many guests. However, I'll put a hall boy near the main door and down here to let them in.  
"Upstairs can be shorted a bit tonight."

 

And still the butler patiently waited.

"If there's anything else you need, Miss Violet? Perhaps just some tea and a bite?  
Mrs. Parker has me a tray with ginger biscuits, which are my favorite, but they used to be your favorite, too."  
And Barrow was rather surprised to see Violet Talbot look a bit overcome,  
nodding, going in to sit in his counsellor's chair.

(Yes, thought Thomas, it was going to be one of those long sorts of nights.)

\---  
Dolly had walked over from Yew Tree, going the back paths instead of coming in from the direction of the road.  
She'd stayed up the night Before, watching to see when the lights actually started, and was gratified to learn that a procession of cars seemed to lead the events.  
(Their 'druids' drove motor cars. Well, so much for ghosts.)  
Far less afraid of mortal men, yet still not wanting to meet them on a dark lane, Dolly thought she'd come in from the back of the house near where it joined into the hill. 

Old Mrs. Farrabee had showed the twins the cave there, using it as her cold cellar--and a convenient bomb shelter during the war.  
I'll come in from that side and be able to see everything, Dolly thought.  
Which as it happened, she did. 

 

Several motor cars drove up, disgorging men in suits--mainly workers.  
who seemed to be tasked with loading and unloading things from the house to the cars.  
A few of the older men went in & stayed put, and through the window she could see they mainly stood by the fire, smoked cigars, and talked.  
Talked and laughed in a sneering way.  
Dolly looked as best she could at these men in particular, trying to see if any of them were anyone she recognized, but they all looked like strangers. (Of a type she'd not rent out a room.)

 

Odd that men in suits would be doing laborer's work, unloading like that, but they were. (Making a right pig's ear of it, too.)  
Backing around the corner, she was just about to leave and go home again, having seen all she wanted,  
when two of the men came nearer, carrying a bundle past into the cave.  
Her path blocked, Dolly ducked back and quietly waited as another load was brought past and the joking men sniggered their way away.

 

The girl breathed a bit easier then. (Not that Dolly lacked courage, she told herself. This just looked like an unsavory crew.)  
As she peeped around the corner, the men seemed to be going in to the house to warm up  
which meant that she could safely go on her way.  
She knew that somehow, either by going back and forth with torches later or  
by intentionally making a spooky sort of event to scare people away,  
these men were behind whatever 'mystery' there was.

She was satisfied they definitely weren't farmers. And while she couldn't go running directly home to her family and report that (to be lectured roundly for taking such a risk),  
she'd certainly find a way to insinuate herself into the drive over her parents were planning to make next week.

(And see these nefarious sorts bottled up.)

It was a comfortable sort of plan, with which Dolly was well satisfied. And pulling her coat up around her, she started to move away.

Unfortunately, it was as she was starting to do that, she heard just the tiniest bit of a groan.

\---

Thomas groaned a bit and rolled his eyes.  
It wasn't that he lacked sympathy for Miss Violet--though to be honest, he'd taken a certain devilish enjoyment in the idea that  
not only was He to be tortured with odd looks for being in the family, yet not of the family. ..Bates was, too.  


Truly though, there was no need for the girl to go wobbly; whatever path she traveled would come out fine.  


Reminding himself to Stay patient, though, Barrow leaned forward, trying to think what he might say to help.  
(For even Talbots and Bateses had their problems, he'd grown to know. And it wouldn't do to let Miss Violet down.)

\---

"Stupid dobbers, what happened to you two?"  
Dorothea Parker veritably hissed it, not wanting to be loud, yet still too irritable to be silent.  
She'd got the knot around Edward's hands free and was working on Clarey's as the first young man undid the rest of the encumbrances on himself. 

"Not sure," Edward Talbot whispered back.  
"Whoever did this..." Clarey started.  
"Are in the house, but I'm sure they'll come back." Even quietly, her exasperation came through loud and clear.

"Right," Edward said, stretching a bit and testing his legs.  
"Clarey?"

"I'm good."  
And motioning, the three slipped out through the shadows and along the back path.

 

"They must've seen the car," Clarey muttered when they'd reached a safe distance.  
"Or heard us along the road in," Edward said, reasonably. Clarey'd done his best hiding the motor car away, after all.  
The boys stopped momentarily to look at Dolly.  
"And you, Oh Rescuer, what about you?"

"Keep walking to Yew Tree, and I'll tell all....locked in by the fire."  
And taking the lead, Dolly showed them the way, teeth chattering.  
While over the distance they could hear a few shouts and a rumble of cars from the direction they'd just come out.

\---  
"None of them were the man your mum has as tenant. I tried my best to look," Dolly said to Edward.  
They'd managed to get back, lock the doors, and make tea.  
"So it might be legal whatever they're storing there, but it's not what she bargained for on the lease.  
"I'd intended to go with my parents and let it get back to Lady Mary that way. Let her decide how to handle it."

 

"But if they were worried enough to tie a fellow up," Clarey objected.  
"It must be more than just Slightly dodgy."

Edward nodded. "Yes, they should've just warned us off. So it must be something...truly wrong. But think it through Clarey, what'll happen if we call out the constable from the village tonight."

 

"Sgt. Jenkin's probably at the gathering where gran is," Dolly said rolling her eyes, knowing the village people. "It'll take forever for him to shake himself free. It not being an emergency and all."  
Clarey nodded, realizing.  
"And they made a mistake when they tied us up. Whoever's in charge, the one with the Brain, will realize it. Probably cleared the place out when they left tonight...that's what all the extra noise was about....which would leave us with egg on our face when the constable finally swept through."

"Not to mention that we'll be admitting the THREE of us were out there. So it's not just us capering about. Dolly'll look like she's been wandering with us through the woods."  
Edward looked serious, though Dolly merely laughed.  
"It's not the middle ages. No one cares if a girl walks in the woods."

"They do, though," Clarey said a bit sadly. "Every time one of Them does Anything, practically, the village seems to want to keep track. Don't know why, but they do."

 

(Well, that was true, Dolly had to admit, but she didn't believe it would harm her reputation, something as innocent as that.)  
"They sounded like London east end, though. Regular gang bosses, cruel and nasty with nicknames and lingo like that."  
(The Parker family might be kind and gentle, but they also had a streak in them that didn't like to show cowardice or simply Let Go.)

Clarey brightened a moment, then slumped back down and sighed.  
"Best to take care of it in the morning as an eviction. Edward's right." He shrugged at the girl.  
" Whoever slugged us made a mistake and his boss'll know it and already have them heading out. Except..."  
Here he brightened again, "Theodore Haverby won't be able to leave so fast."

 

"Who?" Dolly said.  
"Well, we have another detail we think we've worked out," Edward said, then looking rather directly at Clarey. "Though we aren't entirely sure."  
"But if you drive us back to the big house, maybe you could still get a look at who we need to trail amidst the crowd." Clarey smiled brightly, cheered again by the thought.  
"We'll have to hurry, though, it's half past time for them to lock up."


	12. Chapter 12

(Note: warnings for unmarried canoodling.)

-  
-  
-  
Edward Talbot pulled the pillow more completely over his eyes and tried to ignore Clarey's pacing.  
Quietly the other young man padded across the deep carpet, always ending with a bit of a click when he touched the table and turned.  
A length of padding footsteps, then Clarey'd peer out the window quickly, making a slight tinkle as the pulls of the curtain swayed one against the other and lightly hit.  
More annoying, this surreptitious pacing, than ordinary noise.

"Clarey, try to get some more sleep," Edward muttered, coming up for air.  
This morning, though, he knew the battle was lost before it was even begun.

 

"I'm just rehearsing it over, what we have to tell them, and how we'll tell them. Without telling them the whole story, I mean."  
They'd agreed with Dolly that the boys would tell their families they'd gone out toward the farm and had car trouble, with her driving them back. (That would cover the logistics of what happened without much shading of the truth.)

The boys had picked the route because they'd Thought young Haverby had gone out that way earlier and they were curious why.  
(Hopefully that bit would be accepted without question. Though they were prepared to say they'd seen someone in a suit like his out that way. It looked like him. They'd had a glimpse of Someone. Various fragments of truth, just in case some day admitting the entire tale became unavoidable.)

"And you, the schemer," Edward scoffed, rolling over and embracing his pillow one last time.  
(It was so warm under the covers, and they'd been up so late.)

 

"I don't want to get Dolly mixed up and hurt by accident," Clarey said, sincerely. "I never do you, either, but usually these days you're in the schemes with me fairly up to your neck."  
"But she didn't do anything wrong, and she actually rescued us. Think on it, Edward. Wasn't she aces?"

"Lovely," Edward said, rolling back over and sitting up.  
"You should invite her on a date for New Year's Eve. She's invited downstairs already, and if she's officially your date, you might get a kiss."  
This last cheeky bit had Clarey chuck a decorative pillow from the arm chair where he'd landed.  
(Terrible aim, that. A rather wide miss.)

 

Clarey, the perpetual flirt, the archetypal Handsome Young Lad, was rubbish at Romance and Edward knew it.  
He'd managed to kiss quite a few pretty girls at university, but he'd been slapped by quite a few more. 

"She wouldn't," he said, though his head tilted as he considered his approach.  
"She might, but if you dallied around, the entire downstairs would chew your behind," Edward replied, getting up and starting to pull out clothes with irritation.  
"Dallied with Dolly," Clarey gave a hint of a childhood giggle. "Sounds like a wireless tune."

"Just don't you dare. Dally, that is," Edward said, emphatically, though really he trusted Clarey wouldn't.  
Clarey was unlucky in love, but he actually cared about people's feelings...as Edward knew.

\---

George Crawley woke, rolled over, and swallowed several times in quick succession.  
Liz.  
The curls were definitely spilling over the coverlet, one milky white shoulder peeking above it, too.

He reached out a hand, started to touch and drew back, almost as though he were afraid.  
A hot stove, threatening to singe him.  
"What on earth did we do?" he whispered.  
"You seemed to know well enough last night," came a sleepy mumble back.

 

Rolling, snuggling, Liz smiled into George's chest, kissing him.  
His hand finally released from its hesitation, he ran his fingers over her hair and kissed her back.  
"We'll need to get married. Quickly."

George was mentally organizing the timeline as she huffed slightly into his shoulder, working her way kissing up his neck, whispering into his ear.  
"That's all the proposal I get after all of my patience? Besides, maybe I've changed my mind."

 

"I..." he squirmed as she again kissed a ticklish spot.  
"I had a speech worked out for New Year's Eve, truly. Thought I'd court you all week and top it with something romantic that night.  
"Got a bit ahead of myself."  
She looked into his eyes, and seeing them utterly sincere, smiled.  
"I suppose you can ask me then a second time."

 

"But you'll say yes?"  
He ran experimental fingers across her collarbone, brushing past where a sprinkling of freckles made an interesting target to kiss.  
"We'll just have to see, now won't we, Doctor Crawley? We'll just have to see how Convincing you are, that you're the man for me."  
(A good deal of kissing & murmuring afterwards, however, proved where her answer was apt to lie.)

\---

Theodore Haverby was pulling his pants on hurriedly.  
It was early, but he still needed to be back downstairs before his valet came in to help him dress.

"I'm late for downstairs," Ann whispered, already in her maid's uniform and starting toward the door. She had the old suite of rooms at the back of upstairs once held by the Nanny & Tutor, given to her since she had a child.  
"Can you make it past Tommy's room if I go?"

 

"Of course."  
He shrugged her off a bit as she came back to kiss him, busy buttoning his shirt. 

"Well, see that you do. I wouldn't want the boy knowing."  
And as she quietly left, Haverby rolled his eyes. As though a maid was the boss of someone like him.  
She was Convenient; he'd give her that--a treat when he came north. 

And he intended to keep her conveniently by as travel took him from south to north for "business" again.

 

Haverby's associates mainly worked out of London, of course.  
He'd had a bit of trouble with gambling, himself, but now his debt was marked clear just by doing a few favors for the men now and again these last few months.  
Theodore knew Yorkshire better than the Boss, who'd grown up poor in the east end.  
He could scout out places for safe houses. Tell them when parties like this would leave other houses less guarded and ripe for burglary.

"Let's hope everything went smoothly last night," the young noble muttered, stuffing his feet into shoes to go downstairs, figuring to be dressed more appropriately then.  
"I don't want things jammed up this late on the job."


	13. Chapter 13

-  
-  
-

Dolly Parker didn't make her usual neat job of it, parking along the cut stone curb.  
Part of it could have been the long night before, rambling about and (though she'd admit it only to herself) being frightened.

Mainly though, the cause of her distraction came from seeing Lady Mary Crawley entering Mrs. Hughes' cottage door.  
Now what had inspired that?

\---

"I didn't expect to see you, my lady, what with the festivities still going on up at the house."  
Elsie Hughes had opened the door, automatically running a hand down to smooth her --impeccable as always-- black skirt.  
(Even after all these years, she couldn't break the habit of wearing black.)

"I'm sure papa's surprised I'm gone--if he notices--but I did so need to get out and have a moment to myself and think."  
Lady Mary sailed into the cottage, knowing she was welcome to come even if the sign on the door marked it 'Closed.'  
"I found myself saying, 'I'll just pop by Carson's,' as though I half expected BOTH of you still to be here to give me advice."

 

It had been years enough that talking about Charles Carson wasn't painful for either of the women who'd loved him.  
Even now, Elsie thought Lady Mary a rather uppity minx, but the younger woman had also proven a loyal friend to her husband, moving from coming by for her own needs to coming by to check on his.  
So if She had a need now for a quiet place ...

"No, just me. Though I do have tea and a willing enough ear."  
(Times had changed, and I've changed with them, Elsie Hughes thought.)

\---

"The boys, as you well know, are prone to have imagination. Especially Anna's Clarence."  
Lady Mary sat, sipping tea opposite Mrs. Hughes, having given her details of what the two said transpired the night before.

"I do know That," Mrs. Hughes replied, smiling gently, remembering far more scrapes than Lady Mary would even have Known.  
Those two boys.  
Young men, rather, Master Edward & Clarey were.

"Yet, there IS something going on out there, my lady, and I can say that for a certainty myself."

 

Lady Mary's second hand re-telling of Edward & Clarey's adventure as they'd recited it this morning  
and her own investigation of the tenancy  
now joined  
Mrs. Hughes' telling of going out, finding the scarf,  
and talking to Siobhan Farrabee herself. 

"So Mrs. Farrabee said she'd felt chased from the place? Why didn't she say anything?"  
Lady Mary huffed slightly, annoyed.

"And have people think she's a fool seeing ghosts?" Elsie Hughes tutted and poured more tea, settling into the moment a bit more comfortably.  
"She DID try to tell her son, and HE thought her mind was going off the rails. So what of the rest of you?

 

The two sipped and thought over the threads of the plot a bit,  
silence growing between them, but not uncomfortably.

"I can have the constable out easily enough, claiming a sighting of trespassers," Mary said finally. "Perhaps check young Haverby out more thoroughly while he's under our roof."  
She didn't say exactly what she meant by that, and Mrs. Hughes didn't ask.  
(Elsie'd listened at a few grates and keyholes, looked into closets a few times herself in the years, hoping to suss out any scandals brewing. She didn't doubt Lady Mary could order a thorough search right down to Theodore Haverby's smalls if she wanted, though it wasn't quite 'polite.')

 

"Even if the constable doesn't make any arrests, him going out and prowling might push trouble away," the former housekeeper said.  
Charlie had been about keeping the family's name from the headlines, and even if she didn't quite go that far, she well knew that  
not every crime needed punishment, not every immorality needed brought to light.

"And perhaps you could know whether to trim the Haverbys from your list of invitations," she prodded with just a hint of (pointed) irony.  
For another lesson Elsie knew was that  
Not everyone of the upper class deserved to be treated like a Lord.

\---

While the two women chatted in the village,  
back at Downton Abbey  
people were leaving, bags loading, farewells made.

Lord & Lady Grantham were handling the hosting duties, Lady Mary & her son mysteriously off.  
(To his lordship's displeasure.)

Those guests who were local had come for the dinner and the shoot, and were now moving home for their own small holiday traditions.  
Only a few select guests would remain; those travelling far and those who were family.

 

Barrow and the footmen were having a day of it, as were the maids.  
Packing, loading, arranging. Cleaning, clearing, replacing.  
Mrs. Moseley had had some sort of worry, Thomas knew, but she was handling it.  
Daisy had things in hand, moving between large guest list and small.  
Thomas himself was clicking along, supervising and amending schedules as need be.

Yet it was a very busy day of Transition for them all.

\---

"I delivered jams to granny's B&B and thought I'd see if you needed anything."  
Dolly came cautiously into the Carson Cottage, fairly sure Lady Mary'd departed but not entirely so.  
"No, I'm fine, just doing some washing up," Mrs. Hughes said, allowing the girl to join her (and soon replace her) at the sink.

 

"Granny said you didn't go with them last night." Dolly puttered about as though the statement weren't of any great matter, though of course it had worried Beryl Patmore a great deal.  
"Crowds, you know. And I never was as much a one for the Guild as your gran."  
Mrs. Hughes moved slowly around, setting some of the tea things to right herself, unwilling to simply rest.  
"No need for Beryl to worry every time I say no to something," the older woman smiled. "I never was quite the social butterfly as her."

Dolly laughed.  
The description of her granny was too good to ignore, for though she had a rough tongue she did tend to flutter about a great deal.  
"I told her you'd seemed fine driving out the other day."

 

And puttering around each other--old next to young-- they quickly set things to rights.  
"I do have a bit of news to carry from Annie at the B&B," the girl finally got around to the more serious part of her mission.  
"She's got a rather disreputable looking man checked in for the week. And between Her and You, I figure we'll be able to alert the village enough to keep an eye out on  
what he's about."

And just like that, Dolly had one of the older cigar smoking gents from the night before  
under unofficial surveillance in a way a London man might not realize was possible  
in a smallish sort of town.

\---

Meanwhile, down the lane and out at Longfield,  
"I still don't know how you distracted daddy & aunt Mary enough to sneak away," Sybil said.  
George and Liz were sitting in her front room, smiling, Liz with Patrick on her lap gnawing away at her necklace and looking up at her in utter bliss.  
(George, observing the madonna moment, looked in utter bliss, too.)

 

"We just wanted to share some news and ask a favor of you all," Liz said, smoothing the baby's jim jams and looking quite comfortable now that she'd roped her man.  
"We're engaged, you see." (Then smiling slyly at George.) "At least, unofficially."  
A general round of congratulations came from Sybbie and the other three Barrows all settled around the room.  
"Took you a while," Daniel teased Crawley in a bit of masculine bravado.  
"Not easy, is it, to work up to that," George said back, grinning as broadly as he ever had since before the war.

Margaret Barrow smirked.  
"Could tell that was coming at the lunch, me and mum could," she said. "Didn't know when, true, but could tell it wasn't an 'if.'"  
The assortment of nodding Barrows made George blush, even grown as he was.  
"I'm a bit cautious, sometimes," he said.  
Then, thinking of the number of times His Barrow had to toll him from behind the shelves as a child admitted, "I've always been a bit like that. Sybbie was always the brave one of us all."

 

They turned to look at Sybil, who, for herself, was embarrassed for having not felt brave At All this holiday.  
"Georgie," she muttered, irritated.  
"Sybbie," he mocked back.  
  
"Which is where we come to the request which truly demanded to be made in person--  
We wanted to announce on New Year's Eve, but it really wouldn't feel right without you."

There was a beat of silence until George turned to the others, "And, of course, I'm including ALL of the family in this invitation, too."

\---

On the road driving past Longfield out to the Farrabee's,  
the Constable grumbled to himself under his breath.  
He was not impressed with Lady Mary's report of trespassers, exactly. 

Still, as a man of the law he was required to look into the matter even if it spoiled some of his holiday cheer.  
And Annie Philpotts over at the B&B had given him a heavy dose of 'suspicious strangers' over his luncheon anyway.

So he supposed there was a CHANCE something dodgy was going about.  
Better to be chased away than to actually make a capture. (The constable wasn't the Flying Squad, after all, just one lone man with an assistant part time.)

 

Thus he'd decided he'd ramble around and check, having called his two nephews to go with him--  
just in case--as his own sort of muscle.  
Annie might be barmy, but she made a man think of what he'd seen at the cinema with her talk of gangsters and men with moles on their face.  
Those sort of penny dreadfuls were what made the sergeant go into the line of work he had chosen, after all. (Though he'd Never admit it.) 

Imagination stirred, complaint filed, he went out armed  
to protect "his" village...though he wasn't exactly sure from what.

\---

It had taken more convincing than he thought, but if George Crawley was one thing, he was persuasive.  
(Not the best of the family at any of it, yet the all around Leader when he kept down the 'darkness' and tried.)

Now it was to arrange things back at home.  
And with a start, George realized how late it had become....why, all of the guests who were set to leave would already be gone, the dinner gong would ring soon, and he had need to be back to sit under his grandfather's benevolent gaze. 

One more little arrangement, though, first,  
before the Change.

 

"I'm adding in guests tomorrow evening," he'd announced blithely when they made it back to the Abbey, having found his mother in the entry, and Barrow nearby helping Liz with her cloak.  
"I assume it won't be a bother--to either of you."  
George added the last bit, then smiled back and forth between them, trying to play the part of the mischievous boy.  
"We've an announcement of sorts, though we'll wait until then."

Both Barrow and his mother smiled at this, anticipating what that announcement would be.  
"But Liz's parents? I thought?" his mother stopped herself before the word 'dead.'

 

"No, not my parents, they're gone. But George has to have Sybbie, of course."  
Nodding heads all round to Liz's statement.  
"And with Sybbie comes Daniel." ("Well, of course," his mother said impatiently. And even after all this time, Barrow smiled slightly to hear her accepting this absolute 'given.')

"And since they have guests, the Barrows will come with." 

 

George said this last calmly, as though it hadn't taken an hour of negotiation to bring about.  
Both "Lady Mary" and "Mr. Barrow" suddenly were in front of him, replacing his mum and surrogate dad.  
Concerned eyes mirroring each other, a matched set though of different colors.

"They're already invited. That's what we were doing, making sure when they could come. We knew George's grandfather would probably like it done tomorrow night, but if the rest of the family couldn't be here....." Liz let her voice taper off casually.

"I believe Donk or someone called it having a Complete Set, and we must have that, correct?"  
George finished quite firmly. (And oh so much like his father, Mary thought. Pushing her father, Robert, to do what was right.)  
"I didn't think it would be much of a nuisance, will it? A few more guests, since some of the others have gone?"

 

"No, not at all, darling," Lady Mary drawled, with something akin to nostalgic amusement. "In this particular matter, it's not like anyone other than you should have His way."  
"Are they staying the night?" Barrow asked, thinking about room arrangements along with a revolutionary shifting of sands.  
Their voices overlapped, and they glanced one to the other and back.

 

George smiled at them and then down at Liz, quite proud of himself.  
"I believe rooms would be good, though they'll go back the next day. Apparently sheep don't know to take holidays for major announcements.  
"And Barrow," he paused a moment, once again going almost shy. "If you wouldn't be too put out missing part of your staff festivities, we'd like you to come up when we make the announcement, too."

"Please," Liz added, as the older man stood there, silently.  
"If you're sure," Thomas said finally, looking over and getting an affirmative nod from Lady Mary.  
"We're sure," George said firmly. "Just like I said to convince Sybbie. It wouldn't be the same without You."

 

(Goodness, thought George as they parted to dress for dinner, Liz was correct. It isn't so difficult these days to 'have my way.'  
They might all have their roles to play, as Donk always said, but they could change the role descriptions somewhat, couldn't they?  
For when George did take over Downton--hopefully a long way in the future--  
it was going to have to be at least a SOMEWHAT different day.)


	14. Chapter 14

-  
-  
-

Thomas Barrow had been in the back polishing silver since the single digits.  
As butler, such a duty was beneath him, but there was something oddly soothing about watching the progress made as one spread the polish, then wiped it clean.  
He'd perfected this ritual as a third footman--back in the day when third footmen weren't only for temporary hire at parties.  
Like Carson with his deep, solemn moments decanting the Port,  
Barrow now allowed himself to relax into the repetitive task, letting his mind stop running in all directions at once. 

There were simply so many things to do today,  
topped off by George's request that he come in and toast the New Year's with the family and add his blessing to the rest at his announcement.  
Thomas couldn't say no, of course.  
How would he ever say no to being part of the happiest night of the young man's life so far  
after he'd watched him grow from boy to man?

 

Barrow sighed and rolled his neck, loosening the muscles. It would be time soon enough for the scullery maid to come clattering down to start her day.  
Perhaps he could surprise her by having the fires stoked already and the first of the kettles for tea on?  
Thomas smiled a bit at the thought, making the lowest of them have a good start to her day.  
It had taken decades to go from evil footman to kindly butler, beloved by the Son & Heir.  
But there he was.  
Shit. Who knew kindly butlers didn't sleep?

Barrow went in to put the early kettle on.

\---

Upstairs, also not able to sleep,  
Ann Barry didn't know what to do.  
In the little circle of light from the bedside stand, the maid sat holding a leather covered journal.  
Tommy'd brought it in last night, after she'd tossed Haverby out, realizing her mistake.  
Refused him flat--a very proud moment.  
(Just because she was angry that the man she grown to Love didn't want her,  
shouldn't mean she settled for the first interested man to fill her lonely arms. )

 

Unfortunately the noise of their parting argument had wakened Tommy, who'd gone through his toy box to bring something to comfort Her.  
But the plush he brought in came along with a mystery: The journal in her hand--which almost certainly had been hidden in their rooms by Haverby himself.  
Worried, Ann tucked Tommy back in then returned to her room to study the book. In it, she saw dates and details of things that if found in her possession would implicate her as an accomplice in criminal plans.

And now, Ann sat thinking & worrying as she tried to "plan" what to do.

\---

 

Downstairs, the door opened with three short raps and a bang, as the tiny form of Daisy Parker muscled her five foot body through.

"Don't tell me. You've been at the silver polish again."  
  
She sat the tray down, poured his cup of tea and added cream just so.  
Then she began to add an assortment of sweets to the side of the saucer.  
"I know you like the ginger best, but eat some of this first. The sugar'll help with the smudges under your eyes."

Thomas looked at her.  
"Morning, Daisy," he smirked. 

"Morning, Thomas," she said back, dimpling. "Stop overthinking things, and see if you can work some rest in this afternoon. Need a nap before the party begins."  
And out the door the tiny woman flew.

\---

Meanwhile, getting ready to come down from upstairs,

Ann automatically smiled and nodded as her son Tommy rattled along about how MaryMargaret would be staying over the night to play.  
Inside, though, her mind still sorted through her options and was half oblivious to the boy's sweet chatter.  
"Mary'll stay up here with us, won't she? Not down with the grown ups?" his insistent voice broke through to her.

They were coming for a visit to the family, but Tommy took his friend's anticipated coming as a visit especially to him.  
"Yes, I'm sure you two will have such fun," Ann replied absently. 

 

"I'll show her the model airplane Jimmy sent for me, and the coat from you, and the games from Uncle Thomas." Ann took a very deep breath and nodded, gritting her teeth a bit over Jimmy Kent's name, and letting Tommy ramble on as she fiddled with his collar.  
Only then did he tolerantly accepted her extra, squeezing hug.  
"Ah, my big boy. I do love you so," Ann murmured into the embrace.

And now the time had come.  
Both of them dressed, they could go down to breakfast.  
(Squaring her shoulders, knowing if she hid the thing she'd be wrong, so  
No criminal, Her--she'd have to take it and turn it in, somehow.)

 

Tommy was nine, she thought. If something happened to her, surely they'd take him on as a hall boy. These people were Kind.  
It was an odd web of deceit she'd fallen into the edge of, and perhaps one of them could help her out.  
But if not, she'd just have to accept the consequences her decision wrought.

"I can't wait," Tommy said, grinning as they went into the servants hall, but he got no answer.  
"Mum??" he questioned, tugging a bit on her arm.  
"Mm, of course, Tommy. That's good," she said, finally, trying her best to return his smile.

\---

"One more day of it, then things will slow," Barrow said from where he sat at the head of the table, looking over, nodding at Ann & Tommy as they entered.

"After yesterday, I'll be glad for a chance to get things set right."  
Mrs. Moseley spoke from the butler's left. She'd found the miscounts in the linen inventory yesterday again, she told him, amusing the man that she was so incensed that they were off.  
"I'm sure everything will match up soon enough," Barrow told her, smirking yet again.  
Among the things on his list of worries, mismatched linens were rather far down.

 

Ann and Tommy settled in, taking bowls of hot cereal and cups of tea.  
There was little enough time to eat before the bells began, and the woman leaned almost immediately over to catch the housekeeper's eye.  
" I need to talk to you about an important matter," she said quietly.

"What's that, Ann? What's the matter?"  
The housekeeper was looking at her with those gentle, calm eyes and she felt her insides fall at the thought of disappointing her.  
(She'd been foolish. Hurt and angry. But that was no excuse for not making sure of a man she'd brought anywhere near her son.)

"I need to show you something I found."

\---

Trailing the scent of brilliantine and peppermints behind him, Barrow was striding through the upstairs hall.  
It was not that much later, but the day was underway which meant he was going at full speed.

The guests were up and stirring about already.  
Barrow'd seen the gentlemen in for breakfast, leaving Andy to make sure the temporary 'second' footman kept things filled.  
Then Barrow'd gone to check on arrangements for when Lady Grantham's clutch of ladies came down.  
Which was where he was flagged down.

 

"I need your discretion, Barrow," Lady Mary said as she called him aside into the study.  
"It's a rather ticklish thing I need you to bring about."  
And for just a second, Thomas thought perhaps she was going to ask him to bow out of the night's announcement. And his face became a mask to quickly hide disappointment.  
But  
"We think one of the guests is tied into a criminal enterprise," was all her ladyship said.  
Not only did her comment interrupt his churning thoughts, but the butler had to blink a few times and go back to process it.  
"Criminal? A guest?"  
For one brief moment relief flitted past.

 

Lady Mary smiled slightly, seeing he wasn't acting with any sort of shock or dismay, now even seemed faintly amused.  
"Mrs. Hughes suggested that you might be able to shed some light on things? That you could keep an 'extra' eye on the man?"  
Barrow's face resumed its placid look. "Of course, my lady. And which guest exactly is it? And what do we suspect he's done?"  
Of the things he had To Do today, this might actually turn out to be fun.

\---

However, not so amusing was the conversation Phyllis was managing to have with Ann.

"I'll have to turn this over to Mr. Barrow, you understand."  
"Yes, Mrs. Moseley, I know. I started to give it to him first, seeing as how he's been good to me, a protector truly.  
"But he's so busy this week, and....I couldn't stand to face his disappointment alone."

"Beside, you've heard rumors about me and thought me an easier target?"  
This Phyllis said softly, though for once there was an edge to her gentle voice.  
In spite of her marriage, in spite of the years, the housekeeper knew that a vague sort of version of her Past still lingered around the halls of the Abbey.

 

"No, I didn't, truly. Though perhaps you'll understand, even if you can't approve."  
Ann stood there, shoulders slumped, feeling dejected.  
The best she expected was to be asked to leave (the job itself was a gift, after all.)  
The worst she expected was to be viewed as an accomplice. (Hopefully that wouldn't be the case, with her quickly coming forward. Perhaps her honesty now would even somehow protect her...or so she hoped.)

"This man," the word seemed sour in Phyllis's mouth.  
"This man is not only a criminal, but by writing out the details of his appointments and crimes, He's a fool."  
Ann nodded. "And I'm worse, for I let him fool me."

\---

Thus it came, Barrow had his second Mild Surprise of the day when Phyllis Moseley came bearing Theodore Haverby's day planner, saying it had been found in Ann's son's things--though the boy had no idea how that came about.  
Just that. She said nothing more as she stood in front of him silently, letting him look at the book and think things through.

It was the late morning gap of time when he usually adjusted his own book, amending counts and making entries. (Though not such entries as these.)  
Over the peaceful ticking of clocks, the sounds of the kitchen intruded. A slight yip and yowl from Daisy Parker as one of the youngsters fouled up.  
"He hid it there, then? Haverby?" the butler asked, thinking this would certainly exceed what Mrs. Hughes might have thought to find.

"Ann believes so."

 

And though Phyllis now felt free enough to move and sit in the visitors chair, she still had a bit of expectant "waiting" about her posture.  
Poised on the edge of it. Hands knotted slightly. Nervous.  
Which caused Thomas to think back over the morning.  
Knowing his friend as he did, it wasn't that his family was coming making her nervous; frankly that news had turned Phyllis Moseley into Philly Baxter in front of his eyes. (Mags had been her best friend when they were young, after all.)  
It wasn't the work going on, especially now that the number of guests had decreased.

"Sheets," he said....finally coming to it.  
"You've been nattering on about how the inventory was off these last few days with the laundry mixing staff linens with guests'. They borrowed sets of sheets, so no one would find dirtied ones on either of their beds."

 

Phyllis looked down at her hands slightly and flushed, but still didn't speak.  
"Hmph," Thomas added, thinking. Having the woman's name from the location and the man's from the suspicions of crime shared by her ladyship.  
"I'll turn this over to Lady Mary to give to the constable and tell them one of the children found it. We'll hope he doesn't have to dig any deeper than that."

And sitting there, letting the time tick past for a few moments, Thomas considered what life would've been like for them if someone with power over their lives had Automatically given them a second chance.  
Letting them 'earn their way back' later instead demanding penance beforehand.

 

"Don't you think that's best, Mrs. Moseley? Trusting her?" he asked, looking at her until she turned her eyes up. Smiling at her. "Phyllis?"

"I don't see how you could do any less, nor need to do anything more," his friend said gently.  
"Especially with the boy involved."

"Agreed then. We'll give her the best chance we can."

\---

About two hours later, after a late start followed by a full English fry at Annie's (collecting his kudos there)  
the constable drove up to Downton Abbey a bit warily.  
The last man who'd held his job--Bill Madden--had somehow angered Lord Grantham back during the second war. 

Poor sod had to retreat and surrender before Hitler had--Long after the thing they got on about (a nanny?) was stamped 'closed' in the legal records, the Crawleys had used connections to make Bill's life unbearable.  
The man was working a chippie in Manchester now.

 

The new man sighed as he drove slowly along.  
Best to tell Lady Mary his update, Jenkins thought, and try to impress on her that  
he'd taken care of what she'd told him as well as he could. 

"We went out more as a check than anything else," the constable said, turning his hat in his hand and standing there in front of Lady Mary and Mr. Branson.  
They were in a sort of office room, with him having been swiftly placed there by a butler before any guests could catch sight.  
(Rude devil, that Mr. Barrow, hustling him through so swift.)  
"I'm surprised to say we actually caught two of your trespasser fellows. Guess they were cleaning up the last of whatever had gone on before. Lots of tire tracks, apparently lots of cars, but these two blokes just had the one truck."

 

"And you arrested two men yourself?" Branson grinned at him, impressed.  
"Well, me and m'nephews did. Took them along for the ride."  
If anything, the man seemed to grin friendlier at Jenkin's frank admission of thinking ahead.

"Good job, constable. Would you like to sit and have some tea?"  
Lady Mary surprised him with a smile of her own. A genuine smile, though her voice still had that odd drawl that all the toffs seemed to have.  
"Thank you, my lady," he managed, blushing slightly and feeling relieved at their friendliness. "Don't mind if I do."

 

The tea was brought on a tray by the butler, returning starched and looking down his nose,  
and it was then Lady Mary surprised Jenkins again.  
"We've a curious thing turn up this morning. A book that seems to detail something unsavory, though of course a man of the law would know that better than any of us."  
She pointed her chin toward a book on the table by his elbow, and the constable picked it up.

" We looked inside to find the owner's name and there wasn't one," she said complacently.  
"But then.....well, you take a look. We've all sorts of guests and tradesmen in and out for the holiday preparations and party, but no one who should have left anything behind like THAT."  
(Lady Mary gave a smiling, helpless little shrug, though Jenkins suddenly suspected she was anything but helpless at all.)

 

Flipping through page after page of what they'd found, though, he suddenly didn't care if Lady Mary was putting on a bit of a show or if the butler was acting like a smug sort of arse.  
He was just thinking that London might not've been much help identifying the men in his lock up last night, but they'd certainly be more cooperative now.

Leeds. Manchester. All the way to the East End.  
This notebook plotted locations.  
Details, dates.  
This would make the famous Flying Squad fellas look good right  
along with him.

 

Pity there was no name in the book, and so many people about, but perhaps when they did their interrogations, the book would match up with a suspect.  
And in the meantime, there was a wealth of information London would be thrilled he'd found.

 

The butler clearing his throat brought the constable back to reality.  
Looking up, seeing three sets of eyes, then the servant turning to look pointedly at the clock.  
"Oh, I didn't realize that it's time I must be getting on. I'll make my excuses, then, too, Lady Mary. But I'll get back to you with anything else we learn."

Nodding, smiling back at the grinning Mr. Branson, tipping a half sort of bow to the coolly beautiful Lady Mary, Sergeant Jenkins allowed himself to be shown most speedily  
out the door.


	15. Chapter 15

-  
-  
-  
While things were busy at the Abbey, the pace was fairly slow around the Village Square.  
"It's mid afternoon already, shouldn't we go back?" Edward asked, more for point of information than preference.  
(After all, he wasn't looking forward to talking to strangers, even the few that were left.  
As long as he made the gong, he was fine.)

Carson's had a closed sign on it, and unlike his mother, Edward didn't feel free to push in.  
So he and Clarey walked on past, continuing their explorations until finally halting at the war memorial, silently watching the snow clouds overhead.  
"Or if we don't go back, we could get something warm at the B&B," Edward again broke in, half chilled through.  
Still he wasn't grumbling at his friend-- Clarey's subdued behavior that morning definitely meant something was 'off.'

 

"Hmmm....Let's make another round of it," Clarey replied absently, craning his neck this way and that. "You never know who we'll find."  
And a few minutes later, the brief toot of a horn caused him to smile and gave away his reason for dithering.  
"There's Dolly. Let's tell her what we heard and see if she's knows anything else."

"I should have known," Edward snorted, then shaking his head, followed behind.  
Clarey showed affection somewhat like an overgrown puppy, and while Edward found the enthusiasm of their friendship wonderful, not every girl responded in kind when it came to romance.  
And watching his exuberant greeting, Talbot was left hoping that either Dolly'd be amused or at least wouldn't slap him when the puppy pounced.

\---

Yet nothing truly disastrous had happened a half hour later as the duo-turned-trio  
sat drinking a cup of tea in the (crowded) B&B.  
"At least we don't have to worry about lights or criminals any more," Clarey said optimistically. "The constable must be pleased to have dusted off his handcuffs and got his man."

"Men. They took in the man here at Annie's for questioning, too," Dolly answered, giving him a slight smile.  
But then, her gaze drifted back to Edward, which it had already done quite frequently before.  
"The constable said the Met promised to send him someone as soon as possible to help.  
Finding that notebook was clever of your mum."

 

"I believe it was one of the staff, actually, though I don't know all the details," Edward corrected, before trailing off and looking to Clarey.  
"It's good the book helped, though of course the cleverest of all of us is you," Clarey finished the reply. "You saved both of us. No one's done anything that can hold a candle to that."

(The memory of darkness and fright came to them all, and Dolly shivered, though at the time she'd had little fear.)

"Maybe," she said, blushing but proud. "Still, you can't tell that part...even now. Not because of gossips, but because Granny'd have my hide if she found out."

 

A sip of tea and her look turned less amused, even downcast.  
"You know, it's wrong of me, but I wish there were more exciting things happened around here all the time. Not crimes, of course, but just...More."

And her eyes again turned back mainly on Edward,  
who turned questioning eyes toward Clarey.  
while Clarey for his turn looked back at the girl.

 

Clarey'd heard the longing for adventure in her voice, and that was a feeling he knew quite well. Quite well, indeed.  
"You know," he started. "You should come up sometime and visit. At university.  
" If we begged her hard enough, Edward's sister could let you sleep in her flat, and you could see the sights, and..."

At least she looked at him agreeably, though in the amused way you would when you humored a child.  
"Maybe one day, because I do SO want to travel, and study, and learn.  
But for now I'll just have to be satisfied getting my university by proxy out of books I'm lent."

 

Ah! Books, thought Edward.  
"Clarey could send you books. I could, too. We've piles of them around our place, every class demands them and we never seem to want to part with a one. Though a loan, possibly."  
He nodded at Clarey, who nodded back.  
(Books? Clarey thought, questioning. Somehow wooing someone with books wasn't quite his concept of "suave"....and yet.....)

"For You, yes, if you like. We do have piles of them," he agreed, happy to see Dolly found the offer cheering.  
It wasn't Grand Romance Happiness, true, but at least she sat chattering between them, now a bit more equally friendly towards both.

It's a foothold, Clarey thought, beginning to hope.

\---

Meanwhile, back at the house another man was attempting to create Romance in a rather prose-y situation.

The snow was just beginning to drift down as Liz & George circled the Abbey a second time.  
"And you're bringing me out in the cold for a purpose?" Liz asked, curious.  
For a moment things had looked up when they approached the path around to the greenhouse. (Perhaps there, at least, they could get warm.)  
But then they circled back again.  
And with just the tiniest shiver, Liz pulled her hat more firmly down.

"Yes, but....Wait, we need to..." his voice drifted off as he looked around.  
"I think that...here. Yes, this is it.  
"This is nice."  
And his voice took on a bit of satisfaction then.

 

Nice? Liz thought.  
"Well, it's nice enough being anywhere alone with you these days," she agreed,  
reaching up to kiss him lightly and finding herself somewhat amused by the fervor of his reply.  
Catching his breath finally, George tried to explain. "No, it's SUPPOSED to be right outside the house. HERE."  
And he waved his arm at a spot near the building that (quite frankly) looked perfectly like every other spot to her.  
"Here??"

He grinned that wide, youthful Georgie grin that she'd fallen for back at the Start of things and went on...  
"I was raised, you see, on the story of how my father took my mother outside, with the music of the servants ball filtering through from indoors."  
"And his proposal and their marriage was the Crawley version of an absolute fairy tale.  
"That's why I wanted you... 'here.'"

Shrugging slightly, "It was in the evening, but with us knocking things off schedule, I suppose I can't wait until the stars are out."

 

Liz smiled up at him, snuggled in, hanging on to his arm. (Noticing for the first time that inside one of the staff had turned on music, choosing a recording of some sweet sounding song.)  
"Ah. then I suppose I have to let go of you so you can get down on one knee or something like that?"  
As he nodded, quite earnestly, she rubbed her forehead against his shoulder and  
teased, "But you're so nice and warm, George. What if I won't let you go?"

A rumbling sort of chuckle was her reward.

 

"It IS a bit chilly. Somehow the story focused on the romance of snow flakes and not on the reality that it's....cold."  
George leaned down and kissed her, clinging a bit himself as though by holding tighter he could warm her through her layers of coat.  
"Maybe we'll stay just like this, since I've muffed it already."  
He paused and looked at her, though he already had her every expression memorized.

"I'm not the most romantic of people," George said finally. "But I did so want to TRY.  
"To tell you how much I love you."  
He leaned down and putting fingertips under Liz's chin, turned her face up so they were looking eye to eye.  
"I wanted to tell you that you were the bright spot when we were in that dreadful wartime hospital. That I almost didn't survive when you were reassigned and we were apart.  
"And that I would have been home much, much sooner if I'd known home would be with You."  
He smiled, " I felt like I had my hope back when I saw you again, Elizabeth Stanton."

 

Liz kissed him then, unable to resist interrupting. Reached up and ran her hands over His shoulders, but she was no longer thinking to dust him off.  
Kissed him and he kissed her, not even cold any longer.  
In fact, rather pleasantly warm after a few breathless moments of kissing passed.  
"Lizzie will you honor me by....becoming my wife?"  
And she smiled and started nodding before he finished the question.

"Awfully romantic for a surgeon, Dr. Crawley," Liz managed finally. "Must be some of the chivalrous Lord of the Manor in your veins."

 

"Doubtful," he grinned, pushing back gold hair with his hand as his blue eyes looked sincerely down. "But you'll still take me anyway? Even if I'm just who I Am? "  
"Yes," she said, quite satisfied that her patient waiting for George had finally come to this.  
"Realist or romantic. I like both halves of who you are."

And they didn't need night at all, because the Stars were in their eyes.

\---

Meanwhile just a little ways away, unnoticed,  
the Friday train had delivered a passenger who had a very keen sense of what  
'a weekend' was, yet had asked his employer for an extra day.

 

Students reading the law and clerking were to be had for pennies, anyway, so it wasn't that Johnny Bates was cheating anyone out of much of anything.  
"Now it's just to walk the mile or so down and I'm there."

He was quite sure both that this was what he should have done...  
and at the same time was also sure it was a mistake that defied any sort of plan.  
An entire day on the train today. A day going back Sunday.  
And only tonight and the day tomorrow to gain.  
Foolish, he huffed, and yet his heart quickened.

"She said she wanted me, though. So here I am."


	16. Chapter 16

-  
-  
-

Barrow had checked everything twice over, then taken a position in the servery, rather than actually going out.  
He'd had a sudden vision of himself standing behind Daniel (or Margaret or even his mum) and one of the visitors being too entertained by their similar appearances to let the matter lie.  
Anyone with proper manners, of course, wouldn't make a comment. But a few of the guests were of a marginal sort, and Thomas wasn't going to give them an inch to lay the groundwork for their attack.

 

"Thomas. Go on. We've got this," Andy Parker prompted, as the butler once more glared at the second footman, scaring the boy to near tears.  
"What?" Barrow barked, then realized whom he was facing and gave an apologetic shrug.  
"Sorry. Nerves."  
"It's fine," Andy said. "You just go change so when they go through for drinks, you're all slicked up dandy. Make the family proud."

 

Barrow looked at his friend for a long second, then at the trays--wishing it were just a normal evening.  
("I promise things down here'll go smooth," Andy said. "We'll keep it all on track.")

So finally, muttering curses, Thomas went up the stairs.  
To 'dress' for cocktails.  
With his lordship.  
As much as he loved Georgie, this did not promise to be an easy night.

\---

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, the dining room was beautifully organized.  
The flowers fully formed and perfectly scented.  
The candlelight warm and soft.  
Yet the only sound was a slight scritch of silver on china, and an occasional murmur as food was brought around.  
('Andrew' making sure to keep the proper distance and bend just right.)

 

Now half way through, the silence was becoming... awkward.  
Lady Grantham had always considered herself quite gifted at keeping a civil conversation flowing, but she was beginning to think her guests were intentionally foiling her attempts.  
For rarely had she had a dinner where so few people were making comments, yet commenting quite loudly through their small silent gestures and smirks.  
Cora was beginning to find the entire matter absurd.  
(The footman offered her sauce, and she smiled mechanically, determined not to let her irritation show.)

 

"I believe it's snowing," Cora tried again, this time the topic so basic anyone might help,  
"I've always so enjoyed the look of the place when there's snow," Edith, the perpetual middle child, offered. "The colors are like a painting."  
"We went walking in it, actually, George and I," Liz added in, with a genuine smile.  
And for a moment everyone exhaled.

"That's lovely, dear," Cora said, gratefully. "Did you enjoy yourselves?"  
"Yes. Thoroughly," Liz said smiling at George.  
(And taking another serving of the beef, Lord Haverby rolled his eyes and muttered 'puerile' with no attempt to hide the fact.)

 

"I hear you're turning political, like your uncle," Lord Driscoll chimed in from next to the Haverbys. "The question of the British Mandate in Palestine?"  
"I don't think of myself as political at all," George said, calmly. "I just helped after the liberation of the one camp. So my opinions on our responsibilities might be different than some."

"So you'd call us responsible?" Theodore Haverby scoffed.  
"I call everyone who has the ability to change things for the better responsible to try," George said, smiling slightly, though it no longer reached his eyes.  
(And for an instant, service froze. Andrew, standing stock still behind the young Haverby had a wild desire to dump his tray on the man's head, but he resisted, blanking his expression and staring hard.)

 

"Perhaps we should avoid politics," Cora said, lightly.  
Though even Cora was tempted to join the fray when she heard one of their visitors muttering something about 'those Jews.'

"We're so enjoying the country air," Lady Darnley tried, and Lord Grantham looked at her gratefully.  
(And for one brief span of time, things seemed to get back on track with the last of the veg next to entrees, sauces and garnishes on.  
The Crawleys weren't the only ones grateful to Old Lady Darnley. Andrew was grateful, too.)

 

But, apparently, the calm and pleasant give and take wasn't entertaining enough for some.  
"And I assume, Mrs. Barrow, that a visit to the country must seem quite restful to you. Quite the CHANGE."  
Lady Haverby this time. Not an insult, exactly, nothing to argue over. And yet, definitely underscoring by her tone that she thought Margaret quite 'different' than herself and her friends.

"I don't...." Lady Mary started hotly, at the same time  
Margaret blandly said, "Oh, it's beautiful here, and we've enjoyed the time very much."  
Tone bland, face smooth, pleasant little smile.  
Nothing else.  
(Except for the slight smile, her face Matched those of the footmen. Giving away nothing, unless you looked at the eyes.)

 

And catching her expression, Edward huffed slightly into his napkin.  
Seated nearer the Barrow end of the table, the young man suddenly had a realization that the family didn't all just look the same. When they were around strangers, they had the same 'Look.'  
That calm, controlled, survivor of anything Look.

Hearing the slight noise he'd made, the table focused on Edward.  
And though he usually preferred to say little, the young man had a Thought.  
"It was quite interesting in the village today," he said, trying to keep his own face Barrow-bland.  
"Quite a furor over some arrest the constable made, though I didn't quite catch it all."  
"Crime. Criminals," he sighed, letting his voice trail off as if shocked by the concept.  
(Across from him, standing straight, Andrew struggled not to laugh at the youngster's acting job.)

 

Now, thought Edward, a bit gleefully, there was a topic of conversation that might gain ground.  
"There is SUCH crime today--the wrong sort of people simply everywhere," Mary herself drawled with a perfectly serious face, next, catching the thread and taking her pull. She'd not intended to on George's night, but once started.....  
"That must be a problem you have, Lady Haverby. In the city, I mean."  
And the table turned to look at the Haverbys now, several of them staring DIRECTLY at Ted.

Two small pink spots appeared high on the Theodore Haverby's cheeks as his mother began to sputter about.  
"I'm not sure but what you're insinuating, That it's a problem I would have," the old woman blustered glaring back at Mary.

Then she turned to look at Edith. "Or perhaps it's you spreading lies about my son. You made that comment when we first came, and I didn't dignify it with a reply. But if you're spreading malicious rumors now..."  
(And suddenly everyone was watching avidly, footman or no.)

 

"My good woman," Lord Grantham said in a voice that suggested he was NOT viewing her in a very good light at all. "I'm not sure how you can take a small comment about crime--which every paper in the nation decries--and take that Tone."  
  
But on the other side, Lord Haverby was having none of it. "Robert? How dare you insult us like this?  
"Scolding my wife as though she were a child, when you've no more control over your own household than to have grubby little people like these mixed in."

And suddenly both grey-haired men were on their feet with a scrape of chairs.  
(Meanwhile Andrew stayed steady, his fists clenched up slightly, standing more on the balls of his feet in case he needed to help.)

 

Disgusted, Old Willis Haverby threw down his napkin. "There are no trains tonight, but I believe we'll go to our rooms and not displease you with our company any longer. Since you seem to prefer the likes of That."  
"Come, everyone."  
After which, the Haverbys, Driscolls, & company got up and exited the room.

 

"Golly," Robert said, sitting down a bit heavily in the silence,  
an ancient bull primed for battle but glad no fight came.  
"What a turn up."  
"Dinner and a show, what?" Sir John Darnley winked at him, knowing instinctively he'd rather keep the friend who liked to shoot and hunt.

"Well, I'm so sorry for that, but let's move through and regroup," Cora said, trying to catch her breath with the rest of them.  
"We'll serve ourselves desserts and drinks in the drawing room, if everyone wants to follow me."  
(And inclining his head slightly, Andrew opened the door and saw her ladyship and the remaining guests leave the room.  
Thankful Barrow'd decided to stay out that night.)

\---

Coming down just in time,  
Thomas slid neatly into the trailing edge of men as they went through.  
Automatically checking, he could see Lady Mary chatting up his sister, with Tom Branson leading Barrow's mother on his arm.  
Some of the guests had apparently gone up, which actually improved things in his mind.  
Though the butler also noticed Miss Violet was slipping away, which worried him--she'd been so overwrought this week, having a stressful time.

 

As the group entered the room itself, he went toward the serving area, automatically thinking to tidy the table with desserts, perhaps pour drinks.  
"No, not tonight," a voice near his right stopped him, and Liz Stanton took his arm.  
"George told me we MUST have you in that chair nearby or you'll start working, refusing to sit and managing the crowd," she said, confidently leading him where he was 'assigned.'  
"I..." he hesitated. "Thank you."

"No, thank you. Some of these people have proven themselves to be rather a nasty sort, and I see why you might have wanted to stay away....all of you, Sybbie included."  
And in spite of the grin, in spite of the breezy confidence, Barrow could see the young woman's hurt and surprise.  
Dropping his voice quietly, Thomas sincerely offered, "if they try to hurt you, tell me and I'll do what I can to make things fair."

 

Which made the girl laugh in genuine delight.  
"George told me about how you've protected them," Liz said, taking a seat and pointing to the chair across from her. "I tend to be more direct in my methods for getting even, but it'll be interesting to see what you'd have in mind."  
(Ah, dear, Thomas thought. I wonder what all else George'd said.)

\---

At some point, Daniel had handed him a drink that Thomas was trying not to drop, and something sinfully chocolate & delicious he was trying not to eat.  
"I'm only supposed to be here for the announcement," he said to George when the young man came by. (Rising, only to be directed to Sit Back Down.)  
"We'll get there," Georgie said, sharing the other side with his bride to be.  
("Won't we?" he mumbled. "Yes," she answered.)  
Before they both smiled. 

"We just need a bit of a breather after the dinner."  
And at that, they both gave quiet little chuckles, in almost perfect sync.

 

And it wasn't too very much longer that  
Lord Grantham came to stand next to them and asked 'ready'?  
Then called everyone else's attention to him. 

"I know we've a ways until midnight. But before we salute the New Year and  
put all the bad business of the old out the door, I'd like to have one more bit of GOOD.  
The old earl paused dramatically.  
"George--that is our new Viscount--and my dear grandson,  
has shared some news with us that I'll now share on his behalf.

 

"He and the beautiful Liz Stanton are getting married.  
And it is with gladness I'd like to ask all of you to join me in a toast to their future happiness. To Georgie and LIz."

Barrow stood, toasting, feeling tears welling in his eyes.  
Hating himself for being a soppy old fool, but so overwhelmingly happy for the boy.

 

"We've mainly family left, and few dear friends," Georgie finished up, "so now that you've heard our news I want to thank you most sincerely for your wishes and hope that the new year will be as happy for you as I know it will be for me.  
"To family and friends," George raised his glass.  
And everyone echoed behind.


	17. Chapter 17

-  
-  
-  
She'd veered off toward the door, of course.  
Having seen Johnny's face peering out, Violet Talbot could no more ignore its pull  
than ignore gravity.  
"How? Why?" she'd started, as she slipped through to stand next to him.  
"You asked.....and the train," he smiled, enjoying teasing her, enjoying seeing the surprise in her eyes.

Johnny closed the door behind her so they were more safely alone.  
"I know you have to go back for George's announcement.  
"They told me downstairs about the dinner and all, but I just..." and he drifted to a stop.  
Arms having found their way around each other automatically, they stood there like two dancers waiting for the music to start.  
"...I just had to come up, even if it was only to catch a glimpse."

 

"A glimpse to tide us over until midnight comes?"  
This time, she was the one using the teasing voice, though she'd stepped closer and put her head on his chest, drawing him tighter in her arms.  
Face turned to the side, hidden, she smiled and breathed in the clean, honest scent of him.  
Listened to the steady beat of his heart.

"Yes," he said softly.

For the moment it was quiet in the stairwell--warm, soft lights glimmering. (Though perhaps from the film of tears in her eyes.)  
Violet closed them, not wanting the distraction, overwhelmed by her feelings.  
Confused and happy, afraid and overjoyed--all the emotions Violet absolutely HATED were coursing through her.  
But she could face them, safe in his embrace.

 

Only with the greatest reluctance Johnny finally stepped back.  
"You need to go and finish things with George.  
" We've all day tomorrow and then I'll take the train back with you, Sunday late."  
His voice was calm and soothing, knowing they both had Duties, Expectations to fulfill.  
"Later though?" she asked, composing herself.  
"Midnight. The tower?"

And nodding one to the other, they smiled.

\---

"I'm so proud of you, darling," Cora said quietly in Robert's ear as they stood looking over the gathering.  
With the few glowering faces out of sight, the rest of the guests were mingling warmly enough with family.  
(Most of their friends were a good sort, after all.)  
"I made a fool of myself," he answered. "Acting like it was decades ago."  
Ruefully shaking his head, " The county will feed off this, surely enough."

However, Cora took his arm, running one hand down until her fingers threaded with his.  
Older? Yes.  
Her hero? Still.  
"You were wonderful," she said, smiling, enjoying as he began to smile back,  
her pride reflected. 

And she was yet again so very happy they'd found each other, all those years ago.

\---

"No one is going to miss me in there, even George," Violet muttered to herself somewhat irritated as she pillaged the hall maid's closet.  
She & Johnny might not be birds-chirping, sun-shining hearts like Sybbie & Daniel.  
They weren't destiny-brought-us-together, two-pieces-of-the-puzzle, electric like George & Liz.  
But they were something.  
Something that to her at least seemed right.

Organizing the detritus she'd collected into a tidy sort of bundle,  
Violet quickly moved along.

\---

"Is your mother all right? Not too upset at the rudeness?"  
Sybil turned worried eyes toward Daniel as he came back from across the room.

"My mum?" he chuckled. "She has a tight rein on her temper, what with the way she was raised, but my mum...."  
The chuckle became a slight wheeze as he took a drink. "If your Donk had gone over the table to fight that old pillock, My Mum would have done the same."  
Wiping an amused sort of tear from the corner of his eye, Daniel looked down. 

 

"Are YOU all right? That's the question to ask."  
And his voice went from roughly amused to gentle just like that.  
Taking her hand and twiddling his thumb over it, not wanting to make a 'show,' but wanting to touch even that tiny bit.

"I'm fine," Sybbie said. "I hate rudeness and anger and any sort of unpleasantness between people, but.....I'm fine."  
(And the bolstering image of Donk, ready to wage war for all of them---for Their Family--made the statement as true as it came.)

\---

Violet had been a bit low since coming home and had told the maids to leave a fire laid in the old tower room--for when she wanted to come sit and think.  
(In a way, it made Johnny seem close.)

Now it was just the matter of striking a match (well, several)  
and the fire began to burn warm.  
Candles (emergency ones for a power cut, but good enough to serve her needs.)  
And a spare tin of the bedside biscuits (bland, but they'd have to do.)

\---

"Tired?" George teased her.  
Liz's eyes were drooping a bit as she sat in a cozy spot by the fire.  
The noise of the party still swirled around them, a comfortable buzz of conversation now.

"Well, you did have me out walking today earlier. And I didn't get any sleep the last two nights."  
Stretching slightly, smiling smugly, Liz reached out and traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips. 

"I..." George looked nervously around at the guests.  
"Will bally well kiss me or I'll shout," she said.  
(Grinning, he did so, since she'd obviously left him no choice.)

\---

There was a clatter on the stairs, and Violet thought she'd been discovered by one of the chamber maids until the door swung open  
and she could exhale. 

"Great minds," Johnny said, looking around and taking in the room with a glance.  
Going over to the table, he unloaded his haul: sweets and figs, biscuits and nut cake, even a bottle of wine.

Patting down his pockets...."Corkscrew."  
During the performance, she'd started to laugh.  
"Like old times, except for that last bit. All we need is binoculars and we could watch for planes."

 

They moved closer, smiling, until they were again wrapped in each other's arms.  
"Barrow said..." she started. He laughed.  
"What?"  
"I'm attempting to be romantic, and that's not how I expected the conversation to start."

She frowned. "Now, listen," she tutted. "It Pertains."

"Barrow said I was being foolish."  
Another laugh. "I like it so far."  
"He said I was trying too hard to follow the path I'd expected to, dragging you along.  
But in LOVE you can't Choose your own Path. The path chooses you.  
Love just comes in its own time, in its own way,  
and needs your protection so it survives."

 

Johnny studied her, seriously.  
"So do you think we're on the right path? Being together?," he asked.

She looked at him, clear eyed and serious in return.  
"I'm not sure this would ever make a storybook about love,  
but I can't imagine wanting anything else or anyone more."  
And in that moment, all was right in their world.

\---

Tom came to stand beside Mary, handing her a glass of champagne.  
"Where's Edward off to, so fast?"

She smirked.  
"I sent him downstairs, so he could welcome in the New Year with more of a smile on his face."  
"Don't tell me. THIS one's in love with the scullery maid."  
Mary laughed. "No, just to be with his friend, though the friend apparently has a bit of a crush on one of the girls."

 

"Young love," Tom joked.  
"Makes me feel like I'm doddering," she answered.  
"No, that's nonsense, why you're...."

"It's almost time everyone," Lord Grantham announced loudly from the corner.  
"The bells are about to chime!"

"I'm what?" Mary smiled easily, comfortably.  
"The same beautiful woman as always," Tom answered as the cheer arose. 

 

"Happy New Year!" people began to call to one another.  
"Happy New Year, Mary," he said, and bent to kiss her on the cheek  
the same Exact way he had for the last decade...  
realizing only after he'd done it, he'd kissed her  
on the lips instead.

Startled slightly, then smiling again, Mary answered, "Happy New Year's, Tom,"  
before she kissed him back.

\---

It being New Year's and the strength of Tradition unfettering them,  
people upstairs and down were in mid kiss as the clock rang out twelve times.

Couples, family members, friends.  
Everyone was given best wishes, smiled at, hugged, and (yes) kissed.

And from the corner where she was sitting next to Beryl & Bertie, Elsie Hughes stood up slowly.  
And gaining their attention, led them in Auld Lang Syne  
one more time.


	18. Chapter 18

-  
-  
-  
(Note: Time jump. Late April, 1949.)  
-  
-

"Bet I could still climb that tree over there. If I wanted to. Probably," Georgie grinned, mulling the matter over, and feeling mad enough right now to give it a go.  
(Perhaps hide up there and stay, too.)  
He was around the back of the house when Daniel found him, staring up at the branches outlined against the sky.

Spring had finally broken through from winter and the trees had green leaves the size of squirrels' ears budding from them. Early spring flowers nestled among the roots.  
True, it was muddy along the edges of the paths, and there were puddles, but there was a lovely breeze blowing, mellow and warm and hopeful.  
Beautiful weather for a wedding.

 

"Best not, if you know what's good for you.  
"Sybbie sent me to find you and tie you down if I have to. She's afraid you'll be late to the church somehow."  
The other man scoffed. Sybbie might be better at maths and cricket, might be able to instinctively suss out the meanings of poems when Tutor set them to read. But time?  
George Crawley's sense of time was impeccable, internalized from childhood by the rhythm of ticking timepieces everywhere he went.

 

"I'm fine," he said to Daniel. "But we can go if the women think it's necessary. Better to get out of their way, anyhow. You don't know how close Liz & I 've come to taking the route to Gretna Green.....even today.  
"Mama and granny seem to have turned what should be a simple ceremony into a state event somehow."

\---

"I think, perhaps, if you had her hair back a bit more. Anna, you know the style."  
Lady Mary was moving around the room, adding some jewelry to her own ensemble, the women gathered together in one spot so as to let the maids have an easier time  
for the start of the day at least.

Mrs. Moseley had helped Lady Grantham, mainly, but now was carrying accessories back and forth, tidying away the things from them all as they were finished, and in general making herself of use.  
"I usually wear it a bit down, though," Liz objected. And looking nervously at Anna, she saw the older woman slightly nod and blink, putting the brush down.  
"We'll have everything right, my lady," the lady's maid said calmly, buttoning and tucking the elaborate wedding dress, laying out the veil to add last.

It was getting late.

 

"We should go down," Lady Grantham said, when she saw Mary and Edith were done.  
"Marigold, dear. Are you ready?"  
"Just one...." Marigold bent and put lipstick on with a bit of flourish. "There...I'm done.  
"Sybbie?"  
"I think I'm ready."  
"Violet?  
"Of course."  
"Then let's go and let Anna see to the last of it," Cora said, rising. "I'm sure Liz can use a moment of quiet to get settled. And besides, the bride's the last to arrive."

\---

It had been a fortunate thing they'd had a gathering and culling of the family friends back in the winter, Liz thought, as the quiet descended and she could catch her breath.  
Yes, she had a good enough family to pass muster, but she'd been raised in a lawyer's household, after all.  
(With two parents who lightly mocked high society, while occasionally tiding themselves over hard times with moneys from her grandmother's trust.)  
Thankfully, having met most of today's guests before she could relax around them, knowing the more judgmental & pretentious ones had not made the cut.

"Are you all right?"  
Anna Bates' soft voice startled her. Pale face, solemn eyes, but steady voice.  
"I'm fine, though I'd far rather by at home right now listening to the wireless--  
Mrs. Dale, you know, 'rather worried about Jim.'" Liz smiled.  
"In just a little bit, I'll BE the doctor's wife."

 

"That you will," Anna said, making one last adjustment, then looking the young woman over north to south. "You look fine, my lady," she said.  
And Liz laughed. "Not quite 'Lady' yet, she cautioned her. "And, good heavens, perhaps not even then, at least not behind closed doors."  
She breathed in and out deeply to steady herself.  
"Now, you'd better go along to the church yourself.  
"I'll be fine at this point on my own."

\---

Coming self consciously down the staircase a short while later, she was greeted by Lord Grantham, sitting below.  
The old man rose from where they'd planted him in the main hall. And looking up, he smiled joyously.

Robert was a man who'd had daughters, who'd Loved having daughters.  
And, with Liz's own father gone, and no uncle to guide her,  
Lord Grantham got to play the part of father to a daughter once more. 

 

"My darling girl," he said, stepping forward. "How radiant you look. And how glad I am that you've found your way into our family."  
He paused, "Into Georgie's and all our hearts."

And Liz suddenly didn't feel as nervous as she had before.

\---

Meanwhile at the church,  
Barrow slipped in next to Anna, having seen her settle near the back.  
"I suppose George's young lady is turned out perfectly?" he asked.  
Anna nodded. "I can see the groom's anxiously waiting, though I suppose that's the norm."  
Pointing to the front with her chin, they could see just a part of George Crawley, bouncing a bit back and forth on his legs.  
Barrow huffed.  
"That boy."

 

"You should be more toward the front where 'your boy' would see you."  
"And you should be more toward the front for 'your girl.'"  
He smirked slightly, tilting his head toward where Lady Mary sat.  
Sure enough, just then she glanced back and seeing Anna so very far away, Mary scowled.  
Anna chuckled, just a little. "Now behave," she said, smacking Barrow lightly on his arm. 

Their low conversation was joined by a third voice.  
"Well, this is nice," Mrs. Hughes said, settling in on Anna's other side.  
"Back here, we can see everyone go in and out,  
and perhaps catch a hint of the breeze. The vicar must still have the heat on."  
The old woman fanned herself, and nodded away an offer of further assistance from Dolly Parker. 

 

All the Parkers and Masons sat behind them, almost automatically.  
And Joe Miller filled in on Barrow's left.  
"I believe this is what the newspapers call 'starting a trend,'" Barrow said to Anna, knowing they were now all very decidedly in the wrong rows.

Again, Anna gave the tiniest huff of amusement, turning to answer some question from Mrs. Hughes, smiling as Daisy leaned forward and said something back.  
Barrow looked at Miller and smiled slightly, too, bumping shoulder to shoulder.  
Then the music started and everyone rose.

\---

George and Liz were modern people, people of science, who had seen man's senseless inhumanity to man during the war.  
Still, there was something solemn and compelling about the church's traditions.  
And when the vicar started the ceremony, they, along with everyone else, felt lifted, felt sanctified, as though something very special was being looked down upon God with favor.  
And everyone there hoped the marriage had indeed been joined together in such a way that it couldn't be torn asunder, even when they left and faced the sad, old world once again.

\---

"It's probably because he's the heir, but also because there was the war,  
but Sybbie's wedding was quite small compared to that," Daisy said to Thomas, as they walked quickly back along the path.  
"It had the same promises, though, and they meant them," he said.  
"And that's what's important, in the end, not the furbelows," Miller added. "Just the promise the two of them made."

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Barrow was feeling optimistic about the world. Daisy's mood joined his.  
"That's true," she said, brightening. "After all, Andy and I barely had anyone there and we've stuck."

From his side, Andy laughed and moved from holding her hand to looping a long arm around her shoulder. "Couldn't pry us apart."  
"Just hate to think of Sybbie sitting there, though, feeling any way 'less than,'" Daisy said, explaining, while at the same time reaching over to loop her own arm around Andy's waist.

 

"Well, we'd better worry less and walk faster if we're to get the last things finished before the guests come through the door."  
This was from Thomas, who knew that they all once again had Dual Roles--happy and pleased guests at the wedding, with an abundance of food downstairs,  
while also overseeing things topside, making sure the hired staff had things under control.

\---

Liz Crawley was happy enough to retreat back to the upper rooms, to rid herself of the beautiful (uncomfortable) dress, and have a moment to just relax and let the feelings sink in.  
She was married to a steadfast , handsome husband.  
She would make him an adoring, devoted wife.

Wiggling her toes, running fingers through her hair to shake it free from the tiara and veil,  
Lizzie rose to put on her next outfit and prepared to go down  
on George's arm.

\---

 

Now, while the adults were taking care of such important business, the youngest members of the tribe were being entertained upstairs.  
The nursery was thought to be a better place for children after all, with MaryMargaret having escaped briefly for duties as a flower girl, but now finding herself back.  
A bit of a rumpus occurred during this time, what with clothes being exchanged and the other little village girls--also deputized as flower girls-- leaving the stage.

And, of course, certain members of the nursery set had learned to take advantage of the distraction of elders....in particular Patrick Barrow.

 

Young Patty had learned the skill of walking in the interim between engagement and marriage.  
In fact he had not only learned the skill of walking, little Whoops had learned to (after a fashion) run. Easily, gleefully, just as slippery of an escape artist as Georgie had ever been at that age or beyond.  
And with no eyes on him, Patrick slipped out of the nursery area, seeking something more interesting and FUN.

Unfortunately--also being quite annoyed at the starchy, fiddly outfit his mum had picked as appropriate to the day--Whoops began to toss the more disagreeable parts of his ensemble as he went along.

\---  
Enter Jimmy Kent.

Jimmy had come back from his trip to Monaco with Teddy, both of them tan and sleek.  
And in the blonde's case, still fairly oblivious.  
To him, he was friends with Ann and he loved her child. Nothing more or less.

As a witness to that belief, he'd brought back from his travels items of every description that he thought a young boy would like.  
(Turned his pockets out, he did.)  
So on this day, while Teddy was staying to the relative quiet of the green house, Kent was on his way upstairs to play...considering that a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

 

When he saw Patrick Barrow on the fly.  
Saw quite a bit of Patrick Barrow  
and his little pink bum.

 

Jimmy froze for just a second, doubting his eyes.  
Then he race-walked down the hall, restricted from flat out running by a need for discretion....  
while little Whoops was restricted by, well, nothing at all.  
Even gravity seemed to bend to the lad's will. For even as Jimmy watched, the toddler rolled his way head over toes down the carpeted stair. (Pausing a moment to consider his circumstance, Patty wobbled upright before on he flew.)

Jimmy, having to take the more traditional way down the staircase, got to the bottom and found the child...gone.  
Looked left. Looked right. Tried to listen in the silence, knowing his quarry had to be close.

And finally--sending a grateful exclamation to the gods--was rewarded by a flash of pink only two doors away.  
On Jimmy flew.

\---

Determined now that he had the lad cornered, breathing a bit more heavily than he'd like to admit, Kent went for the capture,  
not thinking twice at this point that he was out of the nursery area and onto the floor where bedrooms were.  
Adult bedrooms.  
The bride and groom's bedroom.

Until he yelled, "Got you, you silly knee biter," just as Liz Crawley rose up from behind the bed, hair askew and mouth slightly agape.

"I..." he said.  
"What..." she managed,  
as George came through from the adjoining dressing room.  
"James?" George asked.  
"Master George....I mean, my lord," Jimmy said. "I do apologize, but one of the children...."  
"Is under here," Liz finished, fishing Whoops out from where he had dived moments before.

 

Fortunately, Liz had managed to slip into her dress already, even if her hair was still undone and her shoes still in the corner by the door.  
Fortunately too, as a midwife, the woman was somewhat doting on the matter of babies and toddlers.  
And in the secret way of children, Patrick immediately sensed himself in expert hands and became docile in hers.

"Who's this?" she asked.  
"Patrick, my lady," Jimmy said, "And I apologize again for not knocking. I was on a bit of a rush, chasing after him before he could hurt himself."  
"And you're 'James'?"  
"Jimmy Kent, at your service," he smiled. "Usually I work in the gardens. I was just going up to the nursery, though, when I saw the escape in progress, as it were."

 

George put his hand over his mouth a moment, as though to push back something that looked suspiciously like a smile.  
Clearing his throat to gain both their attentions, the young man said, "Liz, perhaps James here can take the lad up, while you FINISH getting ready for us to go down?"  
"Oh," she said, looking down at her pale pink toes.  
"Right."  
The transfer was made to Jimmy easily enough (for Patty was a companionable sort of boy) and with another apology, Jimmy started from the room.

 

Just as Liz called out, "nice to meet you James" with a definite hint of laughter.  
I'm going to like Master George's wife, Jimmy thought.  
Then,  
"You've got to either learn to stay in lad, or learn to wear clothes," he said to the youngster, as he climbed back up.

\---

Yet,  
on the main floor, no one was any the wiser of any mishaps.  
Champagne was flowing freely enough that everyone had a rosy, glowing outlook  
on life in general and the Crawleys in particular.

Why, Evelyn Napier was as effusive as an Englishman could be about the wedding, about George, about George's new wife.  
"I'm so thrilled that your son found someone so lovely," he said to Mary.  
"I can't believe he's even old enough, but that's how fast time goes by."

 

"Yes, but you've turned back the clock a bit, haven't you, Evelyn," Mary responded, smiling herself, nodding toward his wife, Sylvia.  
His wife Sylvia, who to Mary seemed a 'few months gone.'  
"It's so wonderful that you're being so....wonderful to us," the young woman said, nodding and smiling back.  
Genuine and bashful and warm, a bit like Evelyn himself had been back before the war.

"Well, your husband's been good friends to the family," Tom Branson said, smiling back.  
Kindness and intelligence had always carried more weight with Branson than was the Crawley norm.

 

"Ah, look! There they are!"  
And hearing the shout, the group turned as the bride and groom came down,  
a perfectly groomed, perfectly matched pair,  
ready to face the world.

\---

"You aren't fooling anyone, Mary," Tom said, handing her his handkerchief.  
She never carried one of her own, denying the need of its use,  
but the occasional sniffle as they watched George & Liz's car leave down the lane made That a rather obvious lie.

"He'll be back," Branson chuckled.  
"A honeymoon isn't as dangerous as a war, after all."

"Maybe," she said, but it was a half hearted joke at best.  
"Two down, two to go," she tallied, sighing.  
"I wonder what the future will bring next?"

 

"I'm sure it will be fine," he said, as she took his arm.  
And in spite of it having been a full day already, in spite of being tired,  
Tom and Mary automatically  
began to walk down along the path to the bench  
to sit and talk and plan  
the next part of their family's lives.


End file.
